The Triwizard Cup
by BajaB
Summary: Sequel to Fugitives of Azkaban. Incomplete and probably abandoned. Harry and Sirius have escaped Azkaban and against considerable odds survived, but Harry can't escape his fate. Warning, big parts of this are missing in the middle and it has yet to be complete, but I have not touched it in years so figured I might as well post it as is and maybe get inspired to finish it.
1. Return to Privet Drive

**This is the incomplete sequel to Fugitives of Azkaban. Please read that story first or this will make a lot less sense. I started writing this as another experiment in style. Fugitives had flash-backs, this has flash-forwards. Never worked out as well as I hoped and I ran out of steam a long time before finishing it, but I'll post what I have written along with the story-line for the missing parts. For some reason th editor removed all my formatting. I think I fixed it all.**

* * *

 _The massive, spiked tail of the Horntail dragon whistled through the air above Harry's head and smashed into the stone pylon, sending a rain of chips and rocks hurtling halfway across the stadium. Harry rolled away from the scant protection, not willing to risk it cracking apart and coming down on his head._

 _There weren't many places left to hide behind now, the deadly tail having destroyed everything taller than a metre or so._

 _Scrambling to his feet, Harry put on a short burst of speed in a vain attempt to keep himself behind the huge creature. Sirius's laughing declaration about the deadly tail being only slightly less dangerous than the fire-breathing head was made half in jest, but the truth of the offhand comment was keeping Harry alive, for now._

 _His injured leg slowed him down too much though, and the monster swung around too fast for Harry to keep up. With a last, adrenaline fuelled effort, Harry threw himself behind the shattered remains of the pylon where his teammate had hidden before the first Golden egg Portkeyed the redhead out._

 _Magically strengthened stone melted under the full, undiluted force of the dragon's breath.A spray of tiny molten stone droplets spattered Harry's already bleeding arm, instantly burning through the tough, heat-resistant material of his uniform and making him hiss in pain._

 _It was tempting to use the brief respite to catch his breath, but Harry forced himself to take action, rather than rest. The stream of dragon fire would only last a few seconds; barely enough time to cast anything productive, but a general pain-numbing spell only took a moment._

 _Immediately, relief spread through Harry, unfortunately with a corresponding loss of coordination as his limb numbed. It was worth it._

 _The moment the fire stopped bathing the ruins; Harry leaped to his feet and fired a stinging hex at the dragon's eyes. The loss of fine motor control caused by the pain-numbing charm affected his aim, sending his spell slightly to the left, clipping only one of the vulnerable, dinner plate-sized eyes instead of both._

 _The dragon roared, rearing up on its hind legs as it used a forepaw to try to scrub the affected eye. Harry was sprinting before it finished its ground-shaking cry of pain._

 _Despite the insanity of his mad rush towards the beast, he automatically sought out his godfather._

 _On the other side of the shimmering glow of the protective dome, he could see a dozen people working to break the ward. Dumbledore was there, in front of them all, a fierce rainbow of magic pouring from his wand to grind against the shield, burrowing into it slowly._

 _Behind them, the crowd stood in their seats, either cheering or screaming; Harry couldn't tell._

 _Sirius stood away from the others, casting as furiously as Dumbledore, and twice as desperately. Unsurprisingly, Ron and Hermione were there too, adding their own spells to the onslaught._

 _Whipping his wand upward, Harry cast the strongest banishing charm he could at the Dragon's weaker underbelly, catching it by surprise. The force of the blow overbalanced the creature and it came down heavily on one leg, which promptly collapsed._

 _Heart bursting with sudden hope, Harry closed the distance to the scattered treasure pile and grabbed at the target of his desperate manoeuvre. The broom leapt into his hand and he mounted it without slowing down, rocketing off towards the high roof of the stadium._

 _For the first time since entering the stadium, he breathed a deep sigh of relief, although it came out as more of a half hysterical gurgle._

 _While the length of the dragon's chain put every corner of the floor within reach of its breath or tail, the height of the arena was outside the danger zone._

 _Harry took a moment to contemplate the crowd filling the huge stadium. Most were obviously clapping and cheering now, no doubt ecstatic at getting a much better show than paid for, although some were probably disappointed that nobody was dead._

 _There could be little doubt that somebody was trying to kill him; not with the failure of the final egg's Portkey and the apparent malfunction of the protective wards, which should have let the dragon keepers in while stopping anything else across in either direction._

 _The malfunction was just too coincidental to be accidental, since it stopped Harry from Apparating, Portkeying, or changing into his Animagus form. Somebody was definitely trying to kill him, again._

 _Harry slowed his ascent well below the top of the wards, unwilling to find out if they could do more than just prevent exit or entry. Since his unknown assailant had obviously managed to bypass every shred of security to able to change them, they may have modified them even further, turning them into some sort of lethal-to-touch trap. It was impossible to know the extent of the sabotage, so better safe than sorry._

 _His answer came a mere second later when the sound of the dragon's chain snapping echoed through the ward-enclosed space. The dragon's cry of triumph as it broke loose and leapt into the air in pursuit drowned out Harry's groan._

 _Not for the first time, Harry briefly wished he were back at Privet Drive._

* * *

The bright, summer sun beat down on the homely streets of Little Whinging, Surrey, bathing the rows of virtually identical front yards and gardens in a wonderfully warming, golden glow.

Holidays were only just underway, and most of the younger inhabitants were still reveling in the rediscovered freedom of having no homework and excesses of free time.

One summer resident of Privet drive was desperately wishing to be back at school.

"Potter, can I please take a break?"

Harry lifted the textbook off his face and silently contemplated his morbidly obese cousin. While still enormously fat, he was making good progress in reducing his girth to a size the Smelting's school uniform could accommodate. The Nurse's biting comments regarding his inability to walk between classes without resting were wasted on Marge, Dudley's current guardian, but Harry and Sirius took it upon themselves to 'help'.

Of course, that would be because Marge was currently in a magically induced coma; she was so much easier to deal with after they slipped her a dose of the Draught of Living Death. Her favourite dog was on the bed alongside her, an unfortunate extra victim, but Marge really shouldn't have shared her whiskey with it.

She might have to live with Dudley while he wasn't in school, but Harry and Sirius most certainly did not have to put up with her.

"You know the rules, Dudders," Harry said sleepily. "Thirty minutes, then you can have a five-minute break. It hasn't even been twenty minutes yet, has it?"

Dudley's shoulders slumped, and he turned back to pushing the rotary hand mower up and down the once again immaculate lawn of number four. It was another clear sign of how much life had changed for the two boys.

Privet Drive. Of all the places Harry would choose to spend the first few weeks after leaving Hogwarts, Privet Drive was not high on the list. It wasn't on the bottom; Azkaban, the wizarding prison, held that dubious honour, but it was closer to the lower end of the scale than just about any other place on the planet.

The fact was that the blood wards erected by Professor Dumbledore were worth the effort of returning to spend a few weeks living with the last of his blood family not currently in prison. The sacrifice of his mother would fail without his regular presence in the same house as somebody sharing his mother's blood, and Harry felt oddly sentimental about the last and possibly greatest piece of magic his mother performed.

It also gave an excellent protection from those who wanted to murder him, like Voldemort, and some elements of the Ministry of Magic.

In the end, Harry chose to keep the blood magic alive not because of Dumbledore's vague explanations and concerns, but because it was the last thing his mother ever gave him, and that made him feel that he owed it to her.

Weeks after exposing the new Minister of Magic, Gilderoy Lockhart, as a Voldemort-possessed lunatic, and Harry was still no closer to having his name exonerated. It was a ridiculous misuse of political power by people in the Ministry; people who wrongly supported Lockhart in his extraordinary rise to power and would do anything to hold onto the gains they made under his brief rule, including refusing to allow Harry a fair trial.

Mind you, the corpse of Peter Pettigrew and the testimony of Albus Dumbledore himself wasn't enough to clear Sirius Black of all charges, although his legal status was no longer 'fugitive'.

Technically, both of them were 'on probation under the authority of Albus Dumbledore', meaning nobody was outright going to arrest them if they walked down the street, but it was still a long way from 'free'.

Harry watched Dudley struggling to push the hand mower along, silently checking inside himself to see if he felt anything resembling pity or remorse for the boy.

Life was no longer a bed of roses for Dudley. His parents were both in jail, serving many years for the crimes they committed with their neglect and outright abuse of Harry in his younger years. Vernon was also making up for some rather extraordinary and imaginative accounting on his tax forms, but that was being served concurrently, so didn't really count.

Dudley's friends no longer came calling, not after their attempts to bring the lad back into their fold resulted in outbreaks of some rather disgusting looking diseases amongst them. Sirius was rather proud of that batch of curses, cast on the unsuspecting boys from under Harry's invisibility cloak as the gang roamed the neighbourhood looking for trouble.

In all fairness, Sirius did warn Dudley what the consequences of defying him would be, but Dudley really was just too thick to accept him at his word. Several foul and painful infections later, each corresponding to contact with 'that Dursley boy' as he was now referred to, and nobody would go near Dudley with a ten-foot pole.

Even after that, it still took a lot of stinging hexes for Dudley to learn his place in the new world order.

Harry chuckled, recalling the look on Dudley's face after the first time Sirius transfigured him into a full-blown pig. The only thing that would have made it better was if Harry himself could have cast the charm, but part of his parole involved accepting the dreaded 'Trace' be placed on him, and that gave him no chance to practice the spell before it was used to teach Dudley a lesson he could understand.

That damn Trace.

Now, if he tried casting anything using his wand, without Sirius or Remus standing right next to him, the Ministry would automatically assume a violation of the restriction on the underage use of magic had occurred, and Harry would likely end up back in Azkaban. Of course the Trace was automatically removed the last time he was incarcerated, along with all other spells and charms, but that was hardly a solution Harry would choose, nor was waiting until he turned seventeen for it to expire automatically.

Having Sirius or Remus near him was not really much of a protection from prosecution, as it meant they had to pretend to cast the spells recorded. Any obvious practice, like casting the same charm over and over again, would be clearly Harry.

"Tell you what, Dudley," said Harry, sitting up on the sun lounge. "If you can touch your toes twice in a row without falling over, we'll call it quits for the day. All right?"

Dudley groaned, but stepped back from the mower and assumed the correct stance. Hands held high above his head, Dudley took a deep breath and bent over. For a moment, it looked like he was going to make it, but the effort of stretching far enough to even get his hands passed his knees was too much, and he overbalanced.

With an enormous, ground shaking thump, he fell flat on his face on the newly mowed grass, and began sobbing.

"Now, now, Dudderkins," said Harry pleasantly. "No need to give up. How about we make it two push-ups instead?"

Nope, no pity, no remorse, just a cruel satisfaction in knowing this was as close to hell as Dudley had ever been, and it wasn't going to get any better for the boy anytime soon.

The muffled crack of apparition echoed out of the small shed that used to house the gardening equipment, signalling either Sirius or Remus had arrived. The tin shack sat on the very edge of the wards, making it the only hidden place to Apparate into or Disapparate out of, since so many additional wards enveloped the house itself that even Portkeys would fail.

"Harry," called Sirius excitedly, banging the flimsy door behind him as he ran out of the shed. "I've got it!"

It never ceased to amaze Harry how different his godfather was, compared to the state the man was in when they first met in adjoining cells in Azkaban. He seemed to have de-aged a dozen years and was perpetually full of reckless energy. At times, Harry felt Sirius was the younger of the two of them and Harry himself was the adult.

Sirius stopped in confusion when he nearly tripped over the prone figure of Dudley.

"What's he doing?" he asked.

"Mowing the lawn," answered Harry.

"What, with his teeth?"

Harry shrugged. "Seems to be doing an all right job."

Sirius cast a glance at the half-mowed yard.

"Fair enough," he said, stepping over the boy. "Keep up the good work, Dudderkins, and maybe you'll get to eat two grapefruits tonight."

Dudley sobbed loudly into the soil.

"Anyway, Harry," said Sirius, his excitement returning. "Look what I've got."

He held up a large potion vial.

Harry grimaced.

"Not another damn potion, Sirius," he said. "I'm sick to death of the bloody things."

Sirius smiled wider.

"This, Harry, is your key to removing the Trace."

* * *

 _Seeing Harry forced to jump out from behind one of the few remaining bits of cover, Ron Wesley swore loudly and stopped his futile attempts to break down the barrier. He came to a decision and grabbed Sirius's arm._

 _"Sirius, the Killing Curse," he yelled over the roaring of the crowd around them. "Will the barrier stop the Killing Curse?"_

 _"Ron, he can't," yelled Hermione. "It's Dark Magic. The Ministry will throw him back in Azkaban for violating his parole conditions!"_

 _"Not him," said Ron, before Sirius could respond. "Me. I'll cast it."_

 _Hermione gasped, her hand covering her mouth in reflex._

 _Sirius looked at Ron, his maddened gaze piercing the boy, almost weighing him with its intensity._

 _"It won't kill a dragon," said Sirius._

 _"But it might slow it down, right?" asked Ron. "It'll help, won't it?"_

 _"I don't know," said Sirius uncertainly._

 _"Worth a shot then," said Ron, turning back to where the dragon was busy trying to flatten Harry with its tail._

 _That Harry managed to stay alive this long was a testament to the skill and luck of his best friend, but Ron wasn't going to rely on that alone, not with Harry limping badly and quickly running out of rubble to hide behind._

 _Gathering his thoughts, he concentrated on the hate he felt thinking about last year. A farce of a trial convicted and sentenced his best friend to the worst prison in the world, his sister lay comatosed in a hospital with little chance of recovery, and Ron himself became a ward of the state in a mental asylum – his own family turning against at one time._

 _The hate for the people responsible was all too easy to feel. It boiled his blood in a rising tide._

 _Riding the wave of emotion, Ron, a fourteen-year-old schoolboy of mediocre talent, attempted a charm most adults would not have the nerve or ability to cast._

 _"Avad-"_

 _"No," shouted Hermione, knocking Ron's wand downwards and interrupting his spell. "Look!"_

 _Coming out from practically directly underneath the wings of the huge beast, Harry Potter shot into the sky on a broomstick. He climbed almost vertically upwards into the air above where the chained dragon raged, well above its reach._

 _"Way to go, Harry!" yelled Ron excitedly, grabbing Hermione in a hug and slapping Sirius on the back._

 _All around them, the screams became joyous shouts and even applause._

 _"He's safe," said Sirius, smiling. "He can stay up there until they get the wards down."_

 _The words were barely out of his mouth as the unthinkable happened; the supposedly unbreakable chain holding the dragon broke._

 _"Shit," said Ron._

 _Hermione said much worse._

* * *

"You're sure this is going to work?" asked Harry, for at least the tenth time.

"Yes!" yelled both of the exasperated Marauders at the same time.

Even Remus was losing patience with him.

"Sorry, I'm just bloody nervous," said Harry.

"We can tell," said Remus kindly. "Would it help if Sirius took some first, to prove its okay?"

"Hey!" protested Sirius. "Why me? Why don't you take some?"

"Werewolf," said Remus, raising his hand in the air. "Could have some bad side effects."

"Would you?" asked Harry, looking at Sirius pleadingly.

"Don't give me those puppy dog eyes," said Sirius. "I taught you that trick, it doesn't work on me."

Harry just blinked and tried to look even more "cutely hopeful".

"Bugger," swore Sirius. "All right, give me a dose."

Harry happily poured out a measure and passed it across to him.

Sirius took a deep breath and then slammed the thick drink down, gagging as it stuck to the sides of his throat.

"Good Merlin, that was foul!" he gasped.

Remus coughed loudly, then flicked his gaze from Sirius to Harry meaningfully.

"Er, I mean, that was a bit thick," he said, in a vain attempt to hide his initial reaction. "Are you sure you gave me the right dose?"

"Depends," said Harry. "Did I give you enough to age you about thirty years? Yep."

"What?" yelled Sirius, standing up.

Suddenly he doubled over in pain and fell to the ground.

"Told you we could get him to take it," said Harry, holding his hand out, palm upwards.

The werewolf smiled and handed over a galleon as Sirius thrashed about on the floor of the room.

They were currently in the newest addition to Number Four Privet Drive; the underground apartment. Once Dumbledore convinced them all of the need for Harry to live there with Dudley for a while, and arranged to have Marge move in rather than Dudley go to her house for his holidays, Sirius and Remus immediately declared the house unlivable.

The pure 'Muggleness' of the place made them uncomfortable.

Seeing his godfather in the Dursley living room for the first time was a rather startling experience for Harry. The slightly feral looking Wizard and his werewolf best friend appeared so out of place in the starkly Muggle house that it took Harry five minutes to stop laughing at the absurd sight.

Rather than alter anything upstairs, the pair, along with help from several other witches and wizards, added an underground level. The cupboard under the stairs, that used to be Harry's bedroom and his first prison, was now the entry to a second, secret staircase leading down to 'The Dungeon', as Sirius unimaginatively named it.

Each of them had their own luxuriously large and fully appointed room, with another specially reinforced room for Remus to spend his werewolf nights in, as a last resort. All four rooms, and a guest bedroom, joined into a central open plan room.

"Still betting he has white hair?" asked Remus, calmly taking a drink from his teacup while Sirius cried out and rolled about.

"That or bald," answered Harry, looking slightly uncomfortable at the amount of pain Sirius was apparently experiencing. "Should it hurt that much?"

"Probably," said Remus. "The bigger the dose, the more changes it has to make."

"It wasn't dangerous, was it?" asked Harry nervously. "I mean, he is not going to have a heart attack or something, is he?"

"It's a possibility," admitted Remus, "but I think you'll find he is just hamming it up a bit."

Suddenly Sirius was still, the abrupt transition from noisy thrashing to deathly silence startling Harry.

"Sirius?" called Harry. "Sirius, are you okay?"

When no answer was forthcoming, Harry leaped from his seat and ran over to the downed man, rolling him over onto his back.

"Boo!" yelled Sirius, opening his eyes wide.

Harry yelled and jumped straight back into the seat behind him, tumbling it over and landing in a heap on the other side.

Sirius laughed and stood up slowly and carefully while Harry climbed to his feet swearing.

"Watch that language, you young whippersnapper, or I'll wash your mouth out with soap!" croaked a severely aged Sirius.

His face was badly wrinkled and flabby, with loose jowls of flesh hanging down on both sides. His hair, while not white, was definitely grey, and matching eyebrows, so bushy they needed to be trimmed with garden shears, ran together across the top of his eyes.

He looked like a greyhound.

"So how do I look?" asked Sirius, his voice croaky and raspy.

"Just like your old man," said Remus, leaning over to pocket the coin he previously gave to Harry. "As I expected."

Sirius scowled.

"That bad eh?"

"Worse, actually, but I was being kind," said Remus.

"What do you reckon, Harry? Am I still gorgeous?"

Harry, finally recovered from the fright, looked critically at Sirius.

"I think maybe dementia set in along with the grey hair," he said. "Even if you did manage to pull a girl, looking like that, I bet you wouldn't be much use to her!"

"Oh really?" said Sirius, straightening out as much as he could.

"No!" said Remus suddenly, but Sirius ignored him.

"Well I bet I can still boogie better than you," said Sirius.

"No," groaned Remus. "Not again."

"It's funky time!" yelled Sirius waving his wand in the air.

The lights in the room went out as a mirror ball dropped from the centre of the ceiling and several coloured spotlights hit it from different angles, spraying multicoloured reflections over the room. The chairs swept to one side, carrying their occupants with them, and a highly polished, wooden dance floor suddenly rose in the centre of the room. Raucous Seventy's music began playing loudly, too loudly, as Sirius began dancing, badly.

Harry laughed; he couldn't help it.

"Merlin," said Remus. "I wish Lilly had never taken him out. I wish she just left him mired in two hundred-year-old pure-blood culture and never told him about bloody disco."

"Come-on, Harry!" called Sirius, twisting and turning as well as his creaking bones and swollen joints would let him.

Harry laughed some more and ran out to join his godfather, dancing just as enthusiastically, and just as badly.

Remus held his head in his hands and moaned again.

"He's just as bad, I tell you. Just as bad. Merlin, I hate disco. I hated it then, and I hate it now. Should be left to die, I tell you."

When the song finally finished, the room returned to normal, leaving a wheezing Sirius and puffing Harry.

"Okay, Harry," panted Sirius, collapsing into a chair. "You had your joke, now it's your turn."

Harry nodded and measured out a much smaller amount of the potion; enough for about four years, but hesitated again as the smell hit him.

"Go on, the taste isn't that bad," encouraged Sirius.

"That's easy for you to say, you get to change into Padfoot to drink your medicines. Everybody knows you can eat or drink anything in that form. - It's an unfair advantage," protested Harry.

"Just think, how badly do you miss being able to do magic?" asked Sirius.

"I miss it so bad that I would willingly sacrifice my lard-arsed cousin in a foul and illegal blood-ritual just to be able to cast Lumos at night when you are off grovelling for forgiveness from Professor Sinistra," answered Harry, with barely any hesitation.

"That's really not that much, since just yesterday you offered up his immortal soul for a game of Quidditch," argued Remus.

"And the day before that, his spleen and liver for a glass of pumpkin juice," added Sirius.

"I was very thirsty…" said Harry in a mocking defensive tone, while grinning.

"Well anyway, think about how much you want it, and bombs away!" said Sirius.

Taking a deep breath, Harry gulped it down in one swallow.

A few seconds later, a tingling raced through his limbs. It felt like pins and needles, but slightly more painful. He felt his body twisting and contorting, almost as if he was changing into his Animagus form while taking Polyjuice potion. In mere minutes, the feeling went away, and Harry stood up.

He was taller, but not as much as he hoped.

"How do I look?" he asked, the deeper resonance of his voice surprising him.

The worried looks on Remus and Sirius's faces weren't reassuring.

#

"Great, bloody, Merlin's Crystal Balls," said Harry, again.

The image in the small hand mirror mocked him.

For years, people told him how much he looked like his father, but the aging potion told a different story. James grew up well fed and healthy; Harry grew up starved and subjected to any number of untreated maladies. The magically aged reflection did not paint a happy picture of what the future held. The pale, gaunt face staring back was not how Harry envisioned himself looking in five years.

Despite his recently improved diet and the care of several healers, it was obvious there was something drastically wrong, something that would leave him looking more like a corpse than a young man.

"Tell me again this isn't you and Remus playing a joke," said Harry.

"Remus is bringing Healer Matfield over to have a look at you. He'll be able to tell us what went wrong," said Sirius.

"Maybe nothing went wrong, Sirius," said Harry, unable to tear his eyes off his reflection. "Maybe this is what I am going to look like."

Only Harry's eyes remained relatively unchanged. Even his hair lost its thick waviness, now hanging limp and sparingly, and this was after only a few years. Harry dreaded to think about what could have happened if he had taken a dose as large as Sirius's.

"I'm not going to end up looking like this," he said. "I'll talk to the healer, and then I think I need to make some real changes."

Sirius nodded, clapping Harry on the shoulder reassuringly.

"We'll help, Kiddo," he said. "Lord knows I need to get a bit healthier, and Remus is ten years older than he should be. We can all do with a bit more attention to our lifestyle, eh?"

Harry nodded and returned his gaze to the image in the mirror.

He was tormenting Dudley, supposedly trying to help his cousin get physically healthier, when he should concentrate on his own body. There would be no more skipping out on the potions assigned by the Healers, no more meals consisting of just Treacle Tart, and definitely no more lazy days sitting around doing nothing.

Well, maybe just a few, here and there.

At any rate, if the Healer confirmed his suspicions, he was going to need to have a very long and detailed conversation about what he could do to prevent the future Harry Potter looking like the inferi corpse of a sixteen year old James Potter.

In the shock of discovering his less than healthy-looking future self, Harry completely forgot to check if the Trace was gone.

It just didn't seem that important anymore.

* * *

 _Harry banked the broom sharply, barely managing to get out of the way of the infernal torrent spewing from the dragon's mouth. The broom was only as good as a standard Hogwarts Quidditch one, making it severely underpowered for the brutal manoeuvres needed to keep Harry from becoming crispy._

 _Twisting into a spiral as he dived, Harry curved his descent, trying to keep the fire between him and the beast's eyes. It was a small blind spot, but it was all he had._

 _The dragon temporarily lost sight of its prey, and Harry pushed his broom even harder, getting behind it. If he could stay out of the path of the flame and beyond the reach of the tail, he might survive long enough for the wards to come down._

 _With an unearthly scream of rage, the dragon tucked one of its wings in and, in an amazing display of aerial acrobatics, spun on the spot, destroying any hope of hiding behind it. Acting on instinct alone, Harry jammed the handle of the broom downwards, dropping faster than the belching breath of the dragon could follow._

 _Pulling up scant inches from the ground, another lava-creating wall of fire crashed down, just missing Harry as he rolled sideways and taxed the broom to its limits. The flames chased him across the length of the stadium, stopping only moments before Harry reached the glowing wall of the wards._

 _Swerving as he climbed to hopefully make a harder target, terrifying realisation caught up with Harry before he reached the top of the dome._

 _He couldn't outfly the dragon._

 _There simply wasn't enough space, and the broom wasn't good enough. If he was on his new Firebolt, or even his trusty old Nimbus, there might have been a chance, but on the current broom, and stuck inside an enclosed space – trying to compete in the air with a creature born to fly was doomed to failure._

 _Unable to run and with nowhere to hide, Harry had only one option left; he had to attack._

* * *

"Isn't he ready to go yet?" asked Remus, dropping down onto the couch next to Harry.

"Come on. It's only been two hours – he probably hasn't even got his pants on yet," said Harry. "Was he like this at school?"

"Only after fifth year," said Remus, summoning a couple of bottles of Butterbeer from the cool box and handing one to Harry. "Before that he was still slower than anybody, but he didn't care as much. Once he discovered it made a difference to the girls, we were lucky to get to use the mirror at all. I swear he spent more of sixth and seventh year in the Prefect's bathroom than all of the prefects put together, and he wasn't even one himself."

"I really wish you were coming with us," said Harry. "It's just not fair."

"Life rarely is," said Remus, taking a long pull from his bottle.

"Still," said Harry. "I just don't get how they figure banning werewolves from the world cup is improving security. It makes no sense."

"Hey, at least I get to listen to it on the radio in comfort," said Remus. "If I was on the continent I'd probably be locked up in a cell, just in case."

Harry stared at his friend, bottle half raised to his open mouth.

"You're kidding," he said.

"Nope; standard procedure in most places over there. All werewolves are registered and must check into special 'accommodation' during any large or important events. It's been that way for ages, and that's one of the minor indignities. I've actually got it pretty easy over here in jolly old England."

"Why? Are they really that scared?"

Remus shrugged his shoulders.

"I think a lot of it dates back to the days when packs used to rampage through the countryside, eating Muggles and infecting Magicals. In some countries, getting infected is still an automatic death sentence, and that law has been around at least five hundred years. Not many countries have the same tolerance for non-humans as we do here. Except for the Veela of course; they get special dispensation everywhere, for obvious reasons."

"But you are human," insisted Harry.

"Not to them, Harry. Not to them."

Harry shook his head and was about to comment on the stupidity of wizards in general when Sirius finally left his room.

"Come on, Harry," he said. "No time to waste, you know. Unless you've changed your mind and don't want to go?"

"No way," said Harry leaping to his feet, only to stop and turn to Remus, embarrassed at his reply. "I mean, not unless you want us to stay, that is? To keep you company."

Remus laughed and waved him away. "Go on, get out of here. Have fun and don't forget you are not allowed to do magic, even if you don't have the Trace on you anymore."

Harry couldn't keep the frown of concern off his face.

"Come on, Harry," said Sirius, stepping forward. "Moony here has probably got a hot date lined up and wants us out of the way. Although he could just be heading off to bed with a good book or something – that's his idea of a fun evening you know."

"Have a good time and be careful," said Remus, waving as they made their way to the stairs. "It can get pretty rowdy at those sorts of things, so if anything happens, keep your heads down."

"We'll behave ourselves," said Sirius, smiling mockingly. "Just make sure you do the same."

As Sirius disappeared up the stairs, Remus took another long drink from the bottle and eyed the disco ball hanging from the ceiling. An evil grin replaced his previously slightly melancholy expression.

"I don't think so, Padfoot. Oh no, I don't think so."

#

The crack of their side-along Apparition barely made a dent in the noise of the huge crowd. Shouts, laughter, and raucous singing rained down them; a stark contrast to the almost silent shed they just left. It made Harry smile to know he was better at Apparating to a place he had never visited than Sirius, despite their age and experience difference.

Taking a second to adjust to the explosion of sound, Harry didn't notice the red-robed Auror until the Probity Probe waved in front of his face and began squealing loudly.

Instantly a second Auror was there; wand pointed threateningly at Harry.

"What's going on?" asked Harry.

"Keep your hands where we can see them please, sir," said the Auror with the wand.

"You too," he added, waving his wand at Sirius.

"Hey! What do you think you are doing?" snapped Sirius, not moving an inch, but somehow suddenly looking quite threatening.

Dim, flickering torchlight, and the occasional burst of fireworks, revealed they were standing inside of some sort of cordoned off area surrounded by a low wooden fence. Several identical Apparition areas disappeared off to both sides, and Harry saw more witches and wizards Apparating in only to have Aurors check them too.

Harry's hands automatically began reaching for his wand, but a second pair of Aurors arriving, wands drawn, made him freeze.

"We have detected Dark Magic," said the Auror. "Do you have anything to declare before we start searching you for contraband? I'll warn you, it's already been a long night and our searches are tending to get a bit on the rough side, if you know what I mean, sir."

"Dark Magic?" said Sirius angrily. "What bleeding Dark Magic? Who the hell is in charge here?"

The Auror with the Probity probe stepped forward again and ran the wand over Harry a second time.

"Sirius," said Harry. "Calm down. I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding -"

The wand-like probe squealed loudly again, right in front of Harry's face, cutting him off. All three of the other Aurors were pointing their wands now, and looking very dangerous. Harry could feel Sirius tensing, ready to let loose.

"I'll ask you once more," said the original Auror sternly. "Do you have anything of a Dark nature in your possession to declare?"

Suddenly, Sirius started laughing. Everybody, including Harry, turned to stare at him.

"Go ahead, Harry," he said. "Show them."

Harry stared at him blankly.

"Your forehead," explained Sirius. "Something of a Dark nature, I'd say."

"Oh yeah," he said sheepishly.

Smiling sheepishly, he slowly reached his hand up to move his hair out of the way of his famous cursed scar.

"My name is Harry Potter, and I've kind of got this bleeding cursed scar."

#

The view of the stadium from the seats behind the Minister's box were magnificent. Harry used his newly purchased Omnioculars to scan the whole Quidditch pitch, making sure to get a good recording for Remus before the match started.

A dozen Cathedrals could fit inside the stadium, and there would still be a lot of room to move. A hundred thousand wizards and witches packed the seats, all adding their own voices to the immense noise. The golden glow permeating throughout gave everybody ample light to see and enhanced the wonderful feeling Harry was getting from the spectacle.

On one side of him, Ron and Hermione were animatedly discussing, well something, although he had no idea what. The twins sat further along, as did Ron's older brothers and father. The Weasleys, all die-hard Quidditch fans, were getting into the fever, talking loudly and joking constantly amongst themselves and with those around them.

Harry was quite content to just sit back and take in the atmosphere; bathing in the excitement of the crowd. For a moment, he closed his eyes and just listened. In his mind's eye, he could see himself riding a broom in front of the crowd; hear them cheering his name as he searched for the elusive snitch.

"Harry!" yelled Sirius, from about two inches away from Harry's ear.

"What?" yelled Harry, startled.

"You're not going to sleep, are you?" asked Sirius, a huge smile on his face. "You can always head back home to Remus, if it's a bit late for you."

Harry laughed and shook his head.

"It's a bit overwhelming," he admitted shyly.

Sirius grinned and pointed to the Minister's box where a man wearing Quidditch robes that may have fit years and several kilograms earlier, stood to cast a spell on himself. His voice carried over the noise of the crowd, welcoming everybody and introducing the Bulgarian Mascots.

"Veela!" yelled Sirius excitedly. "Oh yeah, come to papa, baby!"

The most beautiful women in the universe glided onto the field. Harry felt his mind go blissfully blank as the music began to play and the magic of the creatures swept over him, luring him to support the Bulgarian team and their gorgeous mascots.

The next thing he knew, the music stopped and angry shouts rose from the surrounding crowds. Harry tried to add his own outrage at the loss of such magnificence, but discovered he was in a full body bind.

"Sorry, Harry," said Hermione, waving her wand and releasing him. "It looked like you were going to jump."

Ron was also frozen, in a posture suggesting he was about to dive over the railing, but Hermione didn't appear in a hurry to release him. Sirius was still cheering loudly next to him and calling out some rather suggestive comments.

Harry didn't have time to ask about Ron before the Irish Mascots flew into the stadium, distracting him. Scores of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green zoomed around, putting on a display at least as good as any fireworks. They showered the crowd in Leprechaun gold and then zoomed off.

Both teams made grand entrances and played a brilliant game of Quidditch at ten times the speed and brutality that Harry ever imagined it could be. He filmed some of it for Remus, but spent most of his time cheering the great plays of the Irish team, who clearly outclassed their rivals.

When Victor Krum, legendary star seeker for Bulgaria, grabbed the snitch to end the game in the other team's favour, Harry was sure he felt just as worn out as the players themselves, and considerably deafer and hoarser too.

"You coming back to the tent?" asked Ron, before they started making their way out of the stands.

Disapparition was not possible inside the stadium, so people exited through the numerous gates and stairways. That meant quite a queue, making rushing to get out a waste of time and energy.

Harry looked to Sirius. He was still uncertain about his feeling towards much of the Weasley clan, given their actions and attitudes when they thought he was responsible for Ginny's hospitalisation after the basilisk incident over a year ago. So far, Harry had not spoken to any of the other Weasleys, preferring to keep his contact limited to Ron and the Twins.

Sirius shrugged, signaling he was happy with whatever Harry wanted to do.

"Come on, Harry," urged Ron. "It's really cool, isn't it Hermione? Not quite as good as The Dungeon, mind you, but really cool."

"A wonderful piece of magic," agreed Hermione. "Surprisingly practical too, for wizards that is. You should come and see it."

Harry glanced over Ron's shoulder and caught Mister Weasley's eye. The older man looked hopeful, but wary of appearing so. The twins were nowhere to be seen; probably off collecting their illicit winnings.

"Please?" asked Ron.

It wasn't the first time he tried to bring Harry closer to his family. Ron's therapy in the mental institution matured him a lot, and brought to the surface his deep love of family and friends. Having the two separated by a rift was obviously a source of discontentment that we wanted to fix.

"I'm sorry, Ron," said Harry.

He owed Ron a lot for his loyalty, but making up with some of the people who blamed him for the heinous attacks was just too much, at least for now. It was one thing to sit near them watching the game, quite another to go to the place they were staying to celebrate with them.

Ron looked down trodden, but rallied and tried to push his disappointment aside.

"Not to worry, mate," he said. "Come on, let's go see if we can get some Butterbeer and find Seamus and Dean or some of the others from school."

Harry smiled and nodded, pausing only to tell Sirius what he was doing before running off with his two friends to find their Irish classmate and join the party he was undoubtedly a part of.

Later, Harry would wish they had gone to the tent instead.

* * *

 _Ducking under another inferno, Harry charged towards the dragon, momentarily startling it. Before it had a chance to dodge, he closed the distance and launched a barrage of bludgeoning spells at point blank range._

 _The thick upper scales were more than sufficient to resist even his most powerful curses, but he was counting on the force of the pure smashing spells to affect the airborne creature_

 _He was right._

 _Caught by surprise, the dragon actually paused mid-air, rearing up directly in front of Harry._

 _The first curse knocked the dragon's head backwards, allowing the next two to hit it in the neck and underbelly. With a yelp, the dragon twisted sideways, away from the unexpected attack. Harry threw his broom into the turn and followed, managing to stay in a position that gave him a line of sight to the less armoured underside._

 _"Diffindo!" he cast, hoping to break through the thinner protection of the lighter scales._

 _The curse hit, causing a red welt to appear on the dragon, which roared in pain and immediately retaliated with a twisting swipe of its spiked tail._

 _Harry dodged the deadly swinging weapon, getting out of the way with mere inches to spare. He managed to cast again at the vulnerable underside of the dragon, hitting it with another bruising bludgeoning curse. The dragon screamed even louder and performed another seemingly impossible twisting turn, pirouetting on the spot in order to get its flaming breath back on target._

 _Harry dived again, forcing the dragon to turn almost upside down to aim at him. Even with the Flame-freeze and Impervious charms, a direct hit would likely be the end of it, so Harry pulled his broom into a steep climb, circling the dragon and hopefully keeping it off balance._

 _A hastily cast cutting hex missed the beast's head, but impacted the thin membrane of one wing, surprisingly tearing a long hole in it with a corresponding spray of blood._

 _The dragon screamed yet again, and took another deep breath, readying an even larger blast of fiery revenge._

 _Harry didn't give it a chance._

 _He twisted the broom sideways and hit the huge wings with more hexes. Most of them bounced off harmlessly, but a few obviously hurt, knocking the stream of billowing fire off course._

 _Nothing seemed to be slowing the dragon down a lot though, and Harry knew he was running out of time; one lucky hit, and he would be kibble._

 _Desperate for a spell that would incapacitate the dragon, Harry threw his strength into a wind charm, causing a rush of high-powered air to push it into the roof of the magical dome._

 _Blue lightning leapt across the ward, lighting it up in a cascade of sparks and temporarily electrocuting the dragon. Roaring again, it tore itself from the roof and flew straight at him, apparently determined to have the satisfaction of rending him limb from limb with this mammoth teeth and claws._

 _"Incarcerous!" Harry yelled, aiming for the mouth of the dragon._

 _Thick ropes burst from his wand, shooting into the air in an attempt to wrap around its snout. The dragon flicked its head violently, but was unable to avoid all of the ropy tendrils._

 _Quickly snaking around the gaping maw, the ropes pulled tight, closing the beast's mouth with an audible 'snap'. The dragon attempted to roar again, and flames tore from its gigantic nostrils, nearly catching Harry as the distance between them closed rapidly._

 _"Engorgio!" cast Harry, this time aiming for the thick links of remaining chain still dangling from the collar around the beast's neck._

 _With luck, the chain wasn't spelled to resist enlargement charms._

 _Driving the broom into another swoop, Harry was gratified to see the huge chain grow in size and weight. The dragon beat its wings furiously while trying to tear the ropes from its mouth with sword-like claws._

 _Harry attacked again, hoping to drive it to the stadium floor. With each impact, the dragon dropped a little lower, forced downwards by the blows that were now obviously weakening it in addition to the extra heavy chain._

 _"Engorgio!" Harry cast again, swinging up from under the dragon to hit at the chain a second time._

 _The chain swelled again, thickening enough to start dragging the wounded and tiring animal downwards._

 _Suddenly, one of the claws caught the rope holding its mouth shut, and tore it free._

 _A stream of fire washed over Harry, burning and blistering his already battered uniform and hastily upraised arms. Luckily, the dragon's flame wasn't at full power, but it was still enough to rend holes in the protective clothing and seriously burn him in several places._

 _The broom didn't have any such protection, and practically turned to ash underneath him._

* * *

The great 'Irish Quidditch World Cup Victory Celebration' party outside of Seamus's tent was suddenly crushed by a rolling wave of fear.

Screams of panic rent the air, the mood changing from joyous celebration to terror so suddenly that very few people even knew the cause before they too were swept up in the madness.

Running bodies knocked into Harry, pushing him away from his friends despite his desperate attempts to close the ever-widening gap between them. Through the surging sea of clambering people, he caught a glimpse of Hermione being knocked to the ground.

A boiling pit of rage opened up in Harry, bursting forth in a magical blue outburst of light that tossed people away from him in all directions.

The panicked crowd started running from the new source of terror in their midst, some turning to race back the direction they just came from. Their mad scurrying cleared a path to where Ron knelt, attempting to shield Hermione with his body and a hastily cast Protego charm.

Harry sprinted to his friends, grabbing Ron by the arm and hauling him upward.

"You right?" he asked, reaching out to help Hermione.

"I'm good," said Ron, also helping Hermione to stand. "How about you, Hermione?"

She appeared dazed, a trickle of blood colouring the corner of her mouth.

"I'm okay," she said. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," said Harry, drawing his wand. "And I'm not hanging around to find out."

Most of the crowd was gone, with only the odd person here and there running towards the woods. Detonations sounded off in the distance, coming closer with each explosion. Without warning, a tent nearby exploded in flames.

Suddenly a green glow lit up the sky, the gigantic glowing outlines of a skull appearing directly above them. A snake crept from the skull's mouth; twisting and writhing like a demonic tongue.

"Merlin," said Ron. "The Dark Mark."

Harry's first instinct was to look for Sirius, but his godfather briefed him thoroughly before the event, with explicit instructions on what to do in the case of an emergency.

Now was not the time to play hero.

"Let's go," said Harry, grabbing both his friend's arms.

Neither of them resisted as Harry turned on the spot, pulling all three into the constricting compression of Apparition.

Just before he disappeared, Harry caught a glimpse of a figure running from behind the burning tent. In the flickering light of the fire, he could clearly see beneath the robe's hood.

It was a skull.

* * *

 _Plummeting downwards as the broom disintegrated under him, Harry tried casting a momentum-slowing spell, but didn't get enough power behind it to prevent a painful collision with the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs and the wand from his hand._

 _The dragon dropped down, angling to sweep just above his position._

 _In the scant second before impact, Harry regained enough sense to roll out of the way, leaving the deadly tail to pulverise an unlucky boulder in his place, showering him with debris._

 _Massive chain dangling, the dragon clumsily swung back around for another shot._

 _Harry grabbed at his wand, relieved the leather thong attaching it to his wrist was intact, and cast another spell._

 _"Reducio!" Harry breathlessly intoned, this time aiming for the collar rather than the chain._

 _His aim was true, and the collar began to shrink, squeezing the dragon's throat._

 _The dragon went wild, spewing flame everywhere as it clawed madly at the collar. The enchanted metal was too strong though, and all that the dragon achieved was to tear gaping rents in its own flesh._

 _"Confringo, Diffindo, Deprimo, Expulso!" Harry cast, struggling to his feet and spitting dry sand from his mouth as he spoke._

 _Each of the spells smashed into the dragon, tearing holes in the bat-like wings and battering the body of the beast mercilessly. Still the creature fought on, ignoring Harry's attack in its efforts to loosen the constricting collar._

 _Harry pointed his wand at one of the boulders littering the floor, and with a deft flick, sent it flying. The missile collided with the dragon, almost knocking it from the air. Two more boulders joined the first, battering the animal repeatedly._

 _Finally, one of the weakened wings collected a boulder at a bad angle and snapped._

 _Screaming even louder, the dragon fell the short distance to the ground, landing with an earth-moving thud._

 _"Incarcerous!" Harry cast, again binding the mouth closed._

 _Two more casts at the legs put an end to its feeble attempts to stand, although one wing still beat weakly and the tail swept menacingly around behind it, gouging deep furrows in the arena floor. With each passing moment, the swipes became less energetic, and the wing slowly stopped moving._

 _Eyes glazing over, the lack of air and brutal beating finally catching up with it, the huge head dropped and lay still on the ground._

 _Ears ringing in the sudden silence of the enclosed dome, Harry calmly limped over to the immobile face and raised his wand to the half-closed, vulnerable eye._

 _For several long seconds, he held his position, listening to the raw rasping of the defeated dragon and tasting the blood and bile in his mouth. Up close, the smell of fire and brimstone was almost overwhelming._

 _A pitiful moan rumbled in the throat of the dragon – a last cry of pain and anger._

 _"Stupefy!" Harry cast._

 _The dragon slumped down, all movement aside from the laboured breathing stopping as the spell knocked it out completely._

 _Harry painfully made his way over to the half-melted golden egg and picked it up, before struggling to walk as far away from the dragon as he could get. He sat down with his back against one of the many shattered rocks and rested his less injured arm on the egg._

 _When the wards came down several minutes later, he was already unconscious._


	2. The Goblet of Fire

_#_

Albus Dumbledore found himself once again leaving the Ministry of Magic with less than noble thoughts filling his head.

Amelia Bones, newly elected Minister for Magic, agreed with all of his points regarding the incident at the Quidditch World cup, but considered herself powerless to take any of the actions recommended to her by the headmaster of Hogwarts.

"There simple are not enough Aurors, Albus," the stern woman told him. "This incident has caused a great deal of panic throughout the Magical community. I have every available person working overtime investigating how it happened, but we are still cleaning up some of the mess Lockhart made. There is nobody spare to send on your little pet project."

"Amelia," said Albus. "This is far more than a pet project. We are talking about the disembodied spirit of a much bigger threat than a few of his followers getting drunk and disrupting the peace-"

"Nevertheless, he is, at best, disembodied, and unless that situation changes, I cannot spare a team for a wild goose hunt across international borders. Do you have any idea how precarious our reputation is at the moment? We are possibly facing sanctions for the breakdown of security at the world cup," said the Minister. "As it is, we dare not appear to even hint at the possible return of you-know-who, in case it jeopardises your other project, the Tournament."

"Very well," said Albus, knowing when he wasn't going to get anywhere. "I trust you will keep me informed if your people turn up anything that may link this attack with my 'pet project', besides the obvious, of course?"

Amelia sighed loudly.

"I promise I will direct the teams to investigate any lead that the incident was more than just a spontaneous, drunken attack, and inform you if anything turns up, but I can't see how this event could possibly aid him, if indeed he does still exist. All it achieved was to make us more alert to the possibility, and to scare several thousand people silly for a few hours."

"Fear, Amelia, has always been his primary weapon," said Albus, taking his leave of the Minister.

The conversation was no more than he expected, and a great deal more than he could have hoped for if Cornelius Fudge were in power, but it still rankled the headmaster to know something had changed, and yet be unable to discover any hint as to what it was.

Since he couldn't go through official channels, Albus was once again going to have to rely on personal contacts, the first of which he needed to secure for the vacant position at Hogwarts.

Albus sighed and rubbed his temples. He needed Moody at the school, in case any one of the headmaster's numerous fears came to pass, and Defence Against the Dark Arts was the only subject the retired veteran could reasonably be expected to teach.

Severus would be ropeable.

Again.

#

"Tell me, brother of mine," said Fred with an overly dramatic sigh. "How is it that young Ronnikens can get locked in a nut house for a good part of the year, and yet still be a favourite of our dear mother, but you and me work our guts out to pass one O.W.L. each and are still so disrespected?"

George heaved his trunk onto the trolley, nearly sending it flying, before answering.

"I do believe it may have something to do with the fact we have yet to establish ourselves as the premier pranksters extraordinaire of Hogwarts," he said thoughtfully.

"Ah, you mean because we are still over shadowed by those legends of mayhem, the great and almighty Marauders, we not rightfully seen for the geniuses we are?"

"Of course," said George, heaving Fred's trunk on top of his own, "However, while I suspect their academic abilities far exceed our own, and there were twice as many of them as there are us, I may have stumbled upon a possible prank so bold that even those worthy souls would have balked at its audacity."

"Oh really?" asked Fred, starting the trolley towards the entry to platform nine and three quarters and taking a quick glance to confirm the rest of the family were busy with the Grangers.

Despite spending much of the holidays together, Hermione's parents did not often get contact with the magical world and seemed eager to meet more of her friends and their families. They knew Ron, of course, probably better than any parent wants to know their teenage daughter's boyfriend, but were obviously eager to know more of the world their daughter lived in.

"Mayhap you are referring to the much hyped and yet ultra secret 'Event' our older siblings and parents have been teasing us with these past few weeks?" he asked, in a much quieter voice.

"Indeed, brother," George said. "I have in fact managed to procure some very insightful documentation on that very subject."

"As have I," said Fred. "Right from under the noses of those entrusted with keeping us in our perpetual mushroom-like status."

"What've you got?" said George, excitedly dropping the put-on airs.

"Bill's letters," said Fred, patting a bulging pocket. "Haven't checked them for traps and curses yet, though. What about you?"

"Percy's diary," said George, briefly flashing a thick, official looking, moleskin book from the inside of his robes. "Clean as a whistle, of course."

"Brilliant," said Fred, smiling.

Side by side, the twin brothers walked towards the Hogwarts express, confident this was going to be their best year yet.

#

Neville Longbottom kissed his grandmother and made his way towards the train.

He automatically noted several undercover Aurors positioned around the station, but made no sign to acknowledge their presence, despite having spent much of the holidays with a few of them.

He held his new wand in his hand as he walked, even though he very much doubted there was going to be any problem.

Summer holidays were long and hard this year, with not much in the way of fun or normality for him or his Grandmother. Going back to Hogwarts would hopefully make a lot of things return to normal, making him even happier to see the big red train than normal, but a part of him wanted to turn around and return home with his Gran.

Still, this is what she expected him to do, and he would do his very best to make her proud.

No matter the cost.

#

"You are really lousy at this," said Dudley, easily lifting the meagre weight off Harry's chest.

Harry wheezed and rolled off the weight bench, rubbing his new bruises. Dudley used one arm to place the barbell back on its rack and returned to the rowing machine.

"Don't show off, Dudders," Harry said, once he regained his breath. "I can still run circles around you."

Setting up an exercise room in Harry's old bedroom seemed like such a good idea at the time. Surprisingly, Dudley took to it immediately and showed he knew more about weight training than just about anything else.

"Not my fault you're a skinny wimp," sneered Dudley. "You wouldn't last a minute at Smeltings. Everybody has to do at least an hour a day on the weights, or they fail and get clean up duty on the weekend."

"Must be the only class you ever actually tried in, eh?" said Harry, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel.

Dudley shrugged, either ignoring or not understanding the insult.

"I like boxing," he said. "But I got to get tougher to make the grade. Coach is mean a bastard and picks on me all of the time, but he knows his stuff. He told me I might even have a future in the sport, if I can turn all of this fat into muscle."

Harry snorted. Optimistic wasn't a strong enough a word for anybody who thought Dudley could stick to something long enough to perform such a miracle transformation.

It surprised him that Dudley was still attending the exclusive boarding school. With both Petunia and Vernon in jail for their treatment of Harry prior to starting at Hogwarts, he didn't understand how Dudley was able to keep going there. Maybe it was all pre-paid, like Hogwarts, which was mostly government funded anyway.

Not that he really cared.

"Lucky you've got us here to help you with that then, eh?" said Harry.

Dudley frowned, got off the rowing machine to strap on a pair of gloves, and started pounding on the hanging bag.

The lack of concern for his parents' incarceration didn't really surprise Harry. His cousin was still as shallow as a spilled dish, but he was seriously different from the boy Harry grew up with in many other ways.

Uncorking a potion bottle, Harry took a deep swig of the contents, forcing himself not to gag or stop until the flask was empty.

"What's that you keep drinking?" asked Dudley between punches. "Some sort of sport drink or something?"

"Something like that," said Harry, feeling the potion sinking in. "Its medicine. My doctor doesn't know what's wrong with me, but is pumping me full of stuff anyway."

"Freaks," spat Dudley, viciously smashing the bag. "You're all nutters, if you ask me. Taking medicine when you don't know what's wrong with you – stupid. What if it makes you worse? Or gives you something else? Stupid."

Harry tuned out Dudley's ranting. Absently, he wondered if his friends were enjoying the Hogwarts' welcoming feast yet.

The decision not to return to Hogwarts wasn't too hard to make, not with the trauma of the previous year, but he was going to miss seeing his friends every other day. At least he had Hogsmeade weekends and the Tournament tasks to visit them.

Spectator tickets to the tasks were difficult and expensive to get in advance, but Sirius and Remus somehow managed, for all three tasks, no less, but Remus could not attend the two overseas events, due to his werewolf legacy.

It disgusted Harry to find out not many other places in the world were as tolerant as "ol' Blighty", and openly banned suffers from things like the Quidditch matches and school sporting events.

Harry and Sirius's current legal status was less of an issue now, but that was no longer the main reason for Harry to avoid going back to school. The unexplainable, but very detrimental, magic affecting his health was the primary concern. Something was draining Harry of his vitality, and it was speeding up. Exercise and diet would help, combating the drain by increasing his physical stamina, but it wasn't a long-term solution.

There were many long and possibly painful experimental treatments waiting for Harry, some of them probably putting him in bed for days if not weeks. Hogwarts, and the scrutiny and gossip mongering of its inhabitants, was not what Harry wanted to put up with while various healers poked, prodded, and experimented on him.

"Trust me, Dudders," said Harry, moving over to the rowing machine as the potion flowed through his aching body, removing much of the soreness. "Even if it does give me side effects or a new problem, it can't get much worse."

 _#_

 _Minutes before the second task was due to begin, Harry found himself in the_ _Beaubaxton infirmary with a dozen other people._

 _"Sabotage again_ _," said Ludo Bagman angrily_ _. "It's a clear attempt to make it impossible for Hogwarts to complete the second task_ _. I insist we reschedule."_

 _The Beaubaxton facility was smaller than the Hogwarts one, and seemed particularly cramped with all of the people currently filling it. It was hardly an appropriate place to for a meeting, especially with Fred and Cedric on their beds surrounded by their families giving what comfort they could to the poisoned teenagers._

 _"Hogwarts can still compete," said Igor Karkaroff. "Mr. Potter is able to represent his school."_

 _"Vitch begs ze question," added the enormous Madam Maxime, staring intensely at Harry. "'Ow is it zat Mizter Potter iz_ _not als_ _o arffected?"_

 _"Surely you are not suggesting Harry poisoned his own teammates?" asked Bagman. "Preposterous."_

 _"Why would I knock out my own team?" asked Harry, flabbergasted by the accusation._

 _"It would give you_ _an unrivalled opportunity," said Karkaroff, looking thoughtfully at Harry. "A chance for m_ _ore personal glory,_ _perhaps?"_

 _"Or a reason for ze school to fail?" suggested Maxine. "I 'ear zere are some large wagers involved, ezpescially after ze first task."_

 _"Regardless of how or why two of the three Hogwarts champions have been poisoned," said Mr. Crouch, before Harry could reply._ _"The Rules are clear._ _So long as a_ _champion can compete, he must. While the condition of the other two is debilitating, they may recover enough to be compelled as well_ _."_

 _"Are you seriously saying they all have to compete, even though Fred and Cedric aren't well enough to walk yet?" asked Hermione. "_ _That's ridiculous."_

 _Crouch turned to Harry._

 _"They must," he said. "The others face a very painful afternoon unfortunately, as the Geas will push them to do their best, despite their condition."_

 _"So Potter will face the challenge alone then," said Karkaroff, almost spitting the words in accusation_ _._

 _"Yes."_

 _Doubled over in pain on his bed,_ _Cedric glared angrily at Harry._

 _#_

"So what do you reckon this big, after dinner announcement is then?" asked Ron, loading up his plate from the even larger than normal Hogwarts opening feast.

Neville shrugged and began to shovel food onto his own plate. Food at his home wasn't sparse, but it was nothing like the banquette Hogwarts always put on after the sorting ceremony. Just the aroma alone made his mouth water in anticipation.

"You're the one with the dad who works in the Ministry," he said. "All I know is a few of the Slytherin seventh years were strutting up and down the train pretending to know all about it, but not actually saying anything. At least this year there's no Malfoy to shoot off his mouth and claim his dad arranged it all or some rot."

"Typical," said Ron, glancing towards the Slytherin table. "I bet they don't know anything more than us, and probably a lot less than my dad and brothers."

"They wouldn't tell you then?" asked Neville.

"Nah. Buggers laughed and said it would spoil the surprise," said Ron.

"Ron," said Hermione, looking up from her ever-present book. "You know they aren't allowed to reveal anything."

"Yeah, well the twins figured something out. They've been calling in all their debts and selling their old gear, collecting up money left and right, by the looks of it. I think they are going to place a big bet on something."

Hermione scowled.

"Didn't they learn from their illegal World Cup wager?" said asked. "Ginny said they lost a lot of money."

"Actually they won," said Ron, "They just haven't been able to get Bagman to pay up, yet. That's why they're scrounging up every knut they can, – to make another bet, but this time they'll go straight to the Goblins."

"Betting with Goblins?" asked Neville. "That's pretty brave. I heard they don't like to lose and can get pretty extreme about it."

"I bet Harry knows that's going on," said Ron, stuffing a potato into his mouth.

"Probably why he isn't coming back this year," laughed Neville.

Neither Ron nor Hermione laughed. They paused to exchange unfathomable looks before abruptly changing the subject to that of the psychotic looking new defence instructor – Professor Moody.

Neville didn't mention it again, but later that night, in the quiet of the dark dorm, that knowing look the couple shared would haunt his thoughts.

 _#_

Severus Snape reclined in his throne-like chair and scratched his arm absently. On the large table in front of him lay a collection of random items recovered from the Chamber of Salazar Slytherin opened the previous year.

A few books, discovered in a musty room behind the large statue of Slytherin, a knife, found in one of the rancid water pools filling much of the chamber, and the broken shaft of a wand, owner unknown, found near the stubborn door of the chamber proper.

The books and knife were unremarkable, except that they probably once belonged to Voldemort, since they dated from around the time he attended the school, but the wand was a mystery.

Had somebody found the entrance and broken his or her wand trying to get in? Severus himself spent many futile hours in front of that door attempting to gain entrance. A scant few people knew the method he employed, and breaking your wand trying to pry it open was not part of the routine.

The headmaster was the only other person to venture into the inner sanctum of the greatest of the Hogwarts founders, besides Potter and the Weasley girl, of course.

Potter.

Even with the child absent from the school, his shadow still lingered in the dark corners of Severus's thoughts.

It was the eyes, always the eyes - Lily's eyes.

Shaking his head, Severus swept the collection into a box and pushed it aside. There was too much to do to worry about an unlikely possibility. Probably the broken wand became lost and washed down the drains, ending up near the door decades ago.

Dragging out the veritable mountain of paperwork that needed doing, he never noticed how often his hand returned to scratch at the darkening tattoo on his forearm.

 _#_

Lying on his bed, Harry flipped through the pages of his text books, but couldn't bring himself to actually start studying. He felt weary, but not tired, almost as if he had just spent hours casting spells.

Remus and Sirius tutoring him was normally quite exhausting, but in a very different way. Tonight he just felt off; sort of strange.

Dropping the book onto his side table, Harry picked up the latest letter from Ron and read it again.

 _…_

 _Mate, you should have seen the birds from Beaubaxton getting out of those flying carriages. They are gorgeous. Most of us blokes couldn't take our eyes away, and I reckon they loved it too, since their blokes looked like they were used to them. There's this one who seems to be a bit of a Head Girl or something; Fleur Delacour. That's a picture of her I got from Denis. Nice hey? Well the picture does not do her justice. Hermione says she's probably part Veela._

 _Anyway, that's not even the best bit. You will not believe who is here from Durmstrang._

 _Victor Krum._

 _Yep. In the Flesh. The Bulgarian seeker from the world cup, Victor Krum. Incredible. He doesn't speak much, and actually walks a bit funny, but boy can he fly. He took his broom out for a bit of a whizz around the other day, and half the school sat in the bleaches watching him._

 _I managed to talk to him a bit, and even got an autograph out of him, but I had to drop your name in the conversation to get his attention. (Hope you don't mind, but bad luck if you do – this is Krum we are talking about you know!). Seems like an all right fellow, although a bit uptight._

 _So, at any rate, I'm looking forward to seeing you soon. I expect you'll be showing up to watch the tasks, but if you can manage to get here a few hours early, we can hang out._

 _I might even introduce you to Krum, if you're nice to me._

 _See you soon,_

 _Ron I-got-Krum's-autograph Weasley._

 _PS – I think Hermione's suddenly got a bit of a thing for Krum, which is fine because it means she can't pick on me for perving at Fleur!_

 _PPs – Has Ginny written to you yet? If she has, can you write her back, please? She's sent me a letter every day and it's driving me spare!_

Laughing, Harry folded the letter, tucked the picture of the stunningly beautiful girl inside of it, and put them away. His response to Ron was already written and waiting for Hedwig to return from another delivery.

A second letter sat on Harry's side table, one that he wasn't sure what to do with. Picking it up, he read it again.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _It's Ginny here. I hope this letter finds you well._

 _Merlin, I suck at this._

 _This is my hundred and something-th attempt to write you a letter, and I still can't stop sounding pathetic, but I've decided this one goes in the envelope no matter what silliness comes out of my quill._

 _It helps that your beautiful owl is sitting on my dresser hooting impatiently. I was really surprised when she showed up out of the blue, but have taken it as a sign I need to just get this over with._

 _That sounds so bad._

 _Okay, here is the story. Part of my therapy is that I need to apologise to you. Even though, technically, bugger all of what happened was my fault (aside from letting the book take control of me and not telling people about the weird things, like waking up covered in feathers and blood), not so deep down I apparently still feel it was all my fault._

 _So, I have agreed to write you a letter, to say sorry for almost getting you killed, and for getting you put into Azkaban._

 _Sorry._

 _That's just so lame. Gee, what a surprise. I don't feel any better. How about you?_

 _Damn it. This is all going wrong again, but at least I haven't lost the plot and started telling you about my Harry Potter doll this time._

 _Oh Merlin._

 _I'm making a real mess of this again, so I am going to quit now, but I really am sorry for all of the trouble. Thank you for saving me. I really do appreciate what you went through, even though I can only try to imagine how horrible it must have been for you._

 _I've spent a lot of time talking with Ron, and he has explained a lot to me. It's funny how well I am getting along with him now. He really seems to understand, although he is still a prat sometimes. Everybody else is treating me like I'm made of glass, even the twins, but Ron doesn't. Hermione has been good for him, I think (she is really nice, although a little too smart for her own good I reckon). So were the dozen or so healers that went to work on him too I guess._

 _Anyway, I've just realised I am rambling again, and Hedwig is looking even more impatient, so I'll finish up now._

 _Don't feel that you have to reply, since writing this is for my benefit, but if you want to, I wouldn't mind._

 _Morgana, I am pathetic._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _(Hiding under her sheets in embarrassment),_

 _Ginny Weasley_

Even though Ginny was Ron's sister, Harry didn't really know her. She seemed nice enough, the few times he spoke to her before she was possessed by a shade of Voldemort, but he couldn't really say he knew her very well.

The problem was he felt obliged to write back, since it was sort of his fault she spent the better part of a year trapped inside a book. True, he was trying to, and ultimately did, save her life, but the cost was quite high, for all of them.

Harry felt very uncomfortable thinking about that, especially since he had burned half of her face off.

Still, the letter made him smile, despite the endless teasing from Sirius about having a girl write to him (aside from Hermione who 'didn't count' in Sirius' book because she was Ron's girlfriend), and she deserved a response, even if was just to say he received the letter.

Picking up a pen and some paper, Harry lay back and tried to think of a suitable reply, believing he was going to sound stupid no matter what he wrote, but unsure why he was so certain he would.

#

Dumbledore raised his arms, palms outwards, to silence the assembled crowd of students and officials.

"And now, the grand moment has come," he called out.

Despite his general distain for pomp and ceremony, this was a moment for theatrics. A decade of negotiation and political manoeuvring, culminated in the restarting of the Triwizard Tournament, was definitely a moment worthy of a bit of a stage show.

"Three wizards from each school, the very best each has to offer, will be chosen by the Goblet of Fire. Each candidate, either of age or with their parent's permission, has put their name into the cup, and in a moment, it will make its selection."

The crowd grew noisy with excitement.

The amendment to the original rules, requiring each participant to be either legally an adult or have their parent's permission to compete, proved to be impossible to add to the Goblet's ancient selection spells, as had many other additional rules through the centuries.

Albus was however, confident his age line kept out any person under seventeen years of age, and all other entries were handed to Professor Moody to be placed into the cup. The paranoid old Auror scrutinised every one he received with a ridiculous amount of zeal, ferreting out forgeries of parent's signatures with unerring accuracy. It only took a few failures for the students to realise they could not trick old 'Mad-eye'.

Still, Albus would feel a lot more comfortable of they had changed the magic of the Goblet to exclude them instead.

Just as the noise of the room grew to ridiculous intensity, the flames in the cup turned a bright red. A single scrap shot out, floating down on unfelt currents to where he stood.

Snatching it out of the air with another overly dramatic gesture, Dumbledore paused before reading out the name, heightening the tension of the room.

"The first champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

A squeal of delight and heartily felt applause greeted the announcement, despite the lack of honest surprise by anybody who ever met the eighteen-year-old French beauty.

Dumbledore clapped politely while Fleur walked calmly passed the podium and stood to the side. The perfect picture of composure and elegance, Albus knew she was as far from the delicate rose she appeared to be as one could get and still be a female teenager.

Patiently waiting for the flames to change colour again, he dearly wished he could shake the feeling of dread still plaguing him.

#

Harry rose shakily from his bed and stumbled to the door of his rooms, knocking over the bundle of letters from his friends on his side table.

The ill feeling was growing worse, going beyond simply 'feeling a bit sick' and well into 'I think I need to see a doctor' territory.

Sirius and Remus sat in the common room, where Harry left them, both doing their own separate things.

"Harry?" asked Remus, spotting him first. "What's up?"

"I feel weird," said Harry, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "Like I've got to get out or something. Really nervous too."

"Your hands are shaking, pup," said Sirius, rising from behind a pile of disassembled motorcycle parts. "Come and sit down a moment."

Harry took two steps before weakness flooded his system and he tumbled forward.

Moving with a speed very few people would ever see, Sirius had his wand out and a spell cast before Harry made it halfway to the floor. A gentle force caught him, floating him off the ground.

"I'll Floo Healer Matfield," said Remus, already heading for the fireplace.

Harry felt like a fever suddenly enveloped his mind.

"No," he called. "Pomfrey. I've got to see Pomfrey."

"Pomfrey?" asked Sirius, coming to stand next Harry. "Harry, she is just a school healer."

"Pomfrey," repeated Harry, his thoughts clouding with confusing images, but clear in one thing. "Put me down Sirius – I can walk."

Sirius swished his wand and gently placed Harry on his feet.

"Hogwarts," said Harry, standing slightly shakily. "Take me to Hogwarts."

Sirius looked questioningly at Remus. The werewolf shrugged.

"Why not?" asked Remus.

"Okay, Harry," said Sirius, placing a supporting hand on Harry's arm. "Let's go to Hogwarts."

#

 _The canon blast signalling the start of the second task echoed through the valley, rebounding from the surrounding mountains only to become engulfed in the roar of the crowd of spectators._

 _There were even more people watching than the first task, spread out over many vantage points of the course. Huge spectator stands sat on clouds, drifting over different portions of the contest, and massive floating crystal balls relayed the action too, allowing people to watch every champion in every section, even the deep mineshaft and underwater sections._

 _The Mountain, the Lake, and the Mine. Three tasks for three champions, but Harry was the only Hogwarts champion now._

 _He leapt onto his broom and raced to the start of the mountain track._

 _Off to each side he could see the other competitors. The Durmstrang team broke apart, one heading for each section of the course. Krum was on a broom, of course, also racing towards the Mountain._

 _The Beaubaxton champions also spilt up. Two of them climbed onto the broom while the other took off towards the Mines. For a moment, Harry wondered just how many men out there were jealously watching Michael sit behind Fleur with his arms wrapped around her waist, and how Michael could possibly function sitting so close to the stunning beauty._

 _Probably why he isn't steering, thought Harry._

 _Lighter than the others, Harry reached the track entry first. The Hogwarts' crest carved into the stone archway clearly marked his entrance, making sure he could not accidentally take one of the other's paths. The obscuring magical curtain hanging from the archway parted before him as he approached, showing a winding path leading up the side of the imposing mountain._

 _Five minutes. That was all the flight time before the broom's power cut out._

 _Cedric and Fred's discovery about the nature of the broom made all of the difference to their strategy. With luck, the other teams would not know of the built-in limitation and fail to plan accordingly._

 _They originally planned for Cedric to tackle it without the broom, counting on using unexpected tactics in the other tasks to beat their opponents. The plan was risky, but clever._

 _Now, without Fred and Cedric to take on portions of the tasks, Harry had to do the best he could, and the Geas was pushing him too, reinforcing his own innate long suppressed competiveness._

 _Immediately after crossing the archway threshold, a massive tree branch swung at Harry._

 _Realisation that he was under attack by a Whomping Willow tree came only moments before a heavy branch drove the wind out of him by slapping him in the stomach._

 _The force of the blow knocked him back several feet off his broom and onto his backside._

 _The whistle of another branch approaching was warning enough to override his pain, and Harry dived to the side. He started rolling just as another branch smashed on the path beside him. A shower of small stones flew into the air, covering him in dust and dirt._

 _"Protego!" cast Harry._

 _A shimmering blue shield appeared between him and the branch as it came in for another blow. The thin wood shattered on contact, sending a spray of splinters into the air. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Harry scrambled to his feet just in time to see a huge limb swinging down._

 _With no time to do anything else, Harry braced himself and poured more magic into his shield. The impact against the shield jarred Harry's arms and set his teeth ringing, the force of the blow drove him back several feet, the shield gouging a deep furrow in the path._

 _"Stupefy!" said Harry, dropping his shield._

 _The red light hit the trunk and left a small burn mark, but the tree didn't even slow down._

 _Ducking another branch, Harry's mind raced for a solution. The tree was too big for anything except his most powerful spells to affect, and even then, it was probably touch and go._

 _"Impedimenta!" he cast, aiming for one of the larger branches. The branch slowed, but kept coming towards him, as did several other smaller ones._

 _Racing from one side of the path to the other to avoid the faster branches, Harry zigzagged past the tree, hoping to get out of reach without injury._

 _Unfortunately, he didn't see the second tree until one of its branches slammed into his back, pushing him to the ground several feet back the way he just came._

 _The sight of a branch descending from above was motivation enough for him to start rolling. Again a shower of gravel rained down on him from the impact. Continuing to roll, he hoarsely cried out an incantation and brought his wand up, flicking it towards the attacking tree. Obediently, several stones flew to pepper the trunk._

 _Immediately the tree froze, as if turned to stone. Not a branch swayed, nor a leaf so much as rustled. At least one of his stones must have connected with the trees 'off' switch._

 _"Thank you, Marauders," said Harry climbing painfully to his feet._

 _The path in front of him stretched away up the mountain. Offset Whomping willows lined both sides. They looked like they were quivering, possibly in anticipation._

 _Beyond the thick hedges shielding him from the other competitors, the sound of several loud explosions echoed. It seemed Krum's flying wasn't up to the task of out manoeuvring all of the trees and he was relying on brute force to help make it passed the obstacle, just like the Durmstrang team did with their Dragon._

 _Picking up his broom from where it lay, Harry started jogging towards the next tree, wand at the ready to banish stones and disable it._

 _Making his way down the path, he was struck with the odd image of Fleur trying to charm the trees the way she mesmerised the Beaubaxton dragon. Unfortunately, it snorted in its sleep and set her alight, but the strategy worked well enough for her teammates to get all three of the eggs._

 _Somehow, Harry didn't think the blonde witch would have time to spell all of the trees, even in the highly unlikely event they turned out to be susceptible to her Veela charm._

 _Still, it would have been be interesting to see her try._

 _#_

Albus held the scorched scrap of paper in his hand, refusing to believe the name written on it.

To either side, the other competitors waited anxiously. All of them so far were amongst the top picks of the professors, Pomona no doubt counting her winnings from the staff betting pool the moment Cedric Diggory's name floated into Albus's hands.

Nobody was going to get money for this one though. Not even Albus himself would have placed a knut on this name, and he was known for always picking the long odds.

The volume of nervous confusion in the hall rose to a new height as he hesitated, culminating in Moody firing off a canon blast to quieten everybody down.

Albus knew he had to read the name, despite the problems it was going to cause, but still he hesitated, looking for a way out of it.

"Albus?" prompted Minerva McGonagall, taking a step forward.

Clearing his throat, Albus forced himself to go forward – to continue despite his reservations. There was no other way.

"Fred Weasley," he said loudly. "The second Hogwarts champion is Fred Weasley."

"YES!" screamed two identical redheads, leaping up from their seats to hug each other moments before the Hogwarts crowd erupted.

Albus shook his head tiredly. There was no way Molly gave her permission, so the howlers would start arriving before the night was out, and likely go on until morning.

How in the world the pranksters managed to get around the ward and Mad-eye Moody, was likely going to be as much of a mystery as how the Goblet chose a mediocre sixth year as the second Hogwarts champion.

#

Harry collapsed before he reached the fireplace, but Sirius was ready for it.

"Hang on there," he said, catching Harry in his arms. "Two seconds and we'll have you at Saint Mungos."

"No," said Harry, struggling to stand. "Hogwarts. Must go to Hogwarts."

 _#_

 _With the willows disabled by banishing showers of peddles at them until one hit their off switch, getting through that section of the course was simple, taking only a few minutes on foot._

 _A sharp switchback after the last willow signified a new obstacle, although Harry failed to identify what it could be. A long straight length of track lay before him, bereft of willows or any other apparent threat._

 _Harry jogged along, wondering if it was a break between obstacles or if he was missing something. Suddenly suspicious, he flicked his wand and sent a spray of pebbles flying down the path. About half way along the track, the stones disappeared with wet plopping sounds._

 _Harry slowed to a halt and used the end of the broom to prod at the seemingly clear path. The ground became soft a few feet from where he stood, almost sucking the broom from his grasp. He pulled it back quickly before it could get dragged in further. It came loose with a wet slurping sound._

 _Quicksand, or something like it, right where the broom won in the first task would run out of steam if he had flown it all the way. It was a clever trap, for anybody unprepared for the broom to stop._

 _Fred's words during one of their planning session came back to Harry._

 _"In previous Tournaments, every trap had a trick, every challenge at least one way to avoid the worst of it."_

 _He could try to fly over it, but he really needed the broom for later, if he was to have any hope at all of completing the Lake challenge._

 _There was too much of it for him to levitate himself over, and transfiguring a semi-liquid into a solid, or even conjuring a long enough bridge of some sort, was beyond Harry's abilities. He cursed the rule preventing him from transforming into his Falcon Animagus form._

 _A sudden scream from the Beauxbaton side interrupted Harry's thoughts for a moment, but he forced himself to ignore it and concentrate on his own problems._

 _He was preparing to cut down a tree to use as a boat, when a slimy tentacle suddenly broke the surface of the illusionary path covering the quicksand, and flapped about briefly before disappearing back into the mud._

 _"There goes that idea," he mumbled to himself._

 _Precious seconds ticked away as Harry paced._

 _Illusionary. The path was an illusion. Could something else also be an illusion?_

 _Turning away from the obstacle, Harry started probing the surrounding area, paying attention to the enclosing bushes in particular. He was only slightly surprised when his hand fell through a section and touched an invisible ladder._

 _Harry stepped through the hedge and looked up the steep ladder. It was wooden, but appeared positively ancient, with many rungs looking half-rotted, and it disappeared several dozen feet up. Hesitating only a moment more, Harry conjured a length of string to tie the broom to his back, and then started to climb._

 _After a few minutes, he had to pause to take a breather._

 _Glimpsing over his shoulder, he found he could see Fleur leaping from place to place across the quicksand. She had somehow removed the illusion and Harry could see stepping stones spread out through the trap._

 _As he watched, Harry saw a tentacle snake around Fleur's leg to try to pull her into the mud. She quickly shot it with a yellow spell and it sunk back out of sight, but more started poking out of the slimy ground._

 _The second champion was nowhere to be seen and Harry guessed Fleur had detoured to drop off at the lake, which had been one of the options they had considered before discovering the broom's limitations. Fleur's broom would have ran out before she got through the willows and she had still managed to catch up to him and Krum. Impressive._

 _On the other side, Krum sat on the ground near the start of the illusion working on the broom. It occurred to Harry that the professional Quidditch star might know how to recharge it, giving him an incredible advantage against the others who were stuck with the limited flight time of the broom._

 _A herd of skeletal winged horses flew above the tree line, putting to rest any idea Harry had of taking the broom high above the next obstacle. Maybe Krum would make that mistake and pay the price._

 _Resuming his climb, a rotted rung suddenly broke under his hand, nearly sending him plummeting back down._

 _Cursing, Harry reached up and tapped the rung with his wand, casting a repairing spell. He was going to have to spell every one, slowing him down, but falling to his death or serious injury would cost more than just time._

 _Agility, strength, and stamina, Crouch told them. That was what this task tested. Apparently he didn't just mean physical strength and stamina, and wasn't just talking about the task as a whole. Casting dozens of repair spells, fighting through a muddy sea of tentacles, or even recharging the broom were all tiring tasks, and this was only the second obstacle of the first portion of the task; there was still the Lake and the Mine to go!_

 _Settling himself into a rhythm, of spell casting then moving upwards, Harry began the long arduous climb._

 _If this was stamina, at the top he could be sure a test of magical strength waited._

#

Hermione watched the expression on Dumbledore's face change, and instantly felt a deep gut-wrenching fear. Her heart skipped a beat at his look of disbelief just before his expression changed to what could only be called anguish.

She felt her breath catch in her throat, stopping her voice from making a sound even though her mouth was moving, silently denying what she knew as inevitable.

"No, not him, please no."

Her prayer went unheeded.

Before the headmaster could say the name she dreaded, the doors to the great hall opened, crashing against the walls with a loud bang, startling everybody. Hermione didn't need to look to know who it was, and buried her face in her hands.

Though he practically whispered, not taking his eyes from the last of the burnt offerings tossed from the Goblet, Dumbledore's voice echoed throughout out the room.

"Harry Potter," he said, announcing the final champion.

"Oh bugger," said Ron, as the room erupted with noise.

#

 _At some point of his climb, Harry passed through a portal similar to the one on platform nine and three quarters, as he was now on a completely different part of the mountain._

 _Not that he noticed at the time._

 _Eventually there were no more rungs to repair, and Harry reached the top._

 _Dragging himself onto the path, he lay still for a moment to give his aching arms a rest. It was a pity he didn't take Dudley more seriously when they were working out together. The fatter boy often commented on Harry's lack of upper body strength, but it wasn't enough to inspire Harry to make any real effort to address the deficiency._

 _Now he was feeling it would not have been time wasted._

 _Struggling to his feet, Harry saw the next obstacle on his path. Rather, Harry saw the path stop at the bottom of a sheer cliff. A broken stone staircase lay at the base of the cliff in several mammoth pieces, looking like the discarded toy of a giant child._

 _"Not more bleeding repairing," Harry panted to himself in disbelief._

 _Nearing the huge steps, he realised his first impression was mistaken. The staircase wasn't broken; it was in a dozen distinct pieces._

 _Not a giant toy, a giant jigsaw puzzle._

 _Examining the pieces carefully until he was certain of the positioning of a few of them, Harry attempted to levitate one section. The stone weighed at least a ton, but wasn't too difficult for him to move into place._

 _As soon as he put it down, the real problem made itself abundantly clear. The oddly shaped piece could not stand on its own, and tumbled over the moment Harry ceased his spell, crashing down with an earth-shaking boom._

 _Harry tried again, this time making sure to place it carefully on the ground rather than dropping it roughly, as he had the first time. It settled down softly, staying upright but not looking particularly stable. There was no way the next piece could sit on top without tipping the whole thing over._

 _Scratching his head, he sat down and tried to figure out a way to secure the base and each section of the puzzle. There was not much chance of any sticking charm he knew holding the heavy sections together against the force of gravity, even with the best featherweight charms he could cast._

 _The temptation to use the broom to fly to the top of the cliff was great, again, but Harry resisted, knowing every second of flight time could count later. There was also a fair chance that this section was warded against flying, and he was pretty sure he could only get away with bending the rules so many times anyway._

 _It seemed the only thing Harry could do was try to levitate all of the pieces at the same time and drop them into place. The resulting interlocking structure would lean up against the cliff, giving it the support it needed to stay together._

 _Floating more than one object at a time was difficult enough. Floating several massive objects was a strain. Controlling several massive floating objects in order to place them precisely and in a specific order was a huge challenge._

 _Breathing deeply to centre himself, Harry began the spells, concentrating on each piece as it rose into the air. He managed to get three into place before the strain caused his concentration to slip._

 _Clouds of dust flew into the air at the impact of the puzzle, filling Harry's nose and mouth, making him to cough violently and bringing tears to his eyes._

 _After taking a moment to rest, Harry tried again, this time getting four of the seven sections in place before losing control. The falling pieces bounced off each other, nearly squashing him before coming to rest spread out all over the path._

 _Cursing loudly, Harry sat down and rethought his strategy. There was no use denying it, he didn't have the skill or strength to assemble the pieces. Controlling the last and first pieces might work, but only if he could keep the lower sections still at the same time._

 _Walking over to the sections, he ran his hand over the smooth rock. It almost felt like marble, and was remarkably intact, considering the beating taken from two falls. On a whim he tried a sticking spell on one piece and then levitated the next section over to connect in, both lying on their sides on the ground._

 _The sticking spell gave way as soon as he tried lifting one section, but seeing the two parts laying together on the ground gave him a new idea._

 _Working quickly, Harry levitated each piece into its place where it settled with a loud click, as if it was locking into the other pieces. Sometimes he needed to remove a piece already in place in order to slot another section in first or it would not 'click'. Still, it took only a few minutes for the entire staircase to be lying on its side on the path._

 _Now came the difficult bit._

 _Excitement at possibly solving the problem made it impossible for him to calm down a lot, but he took a moment and several deep breaths before gathering his power._

 _Standing well away, Harry cast the spell and tried lifting the whole staircase as one single unit. The stones ground together noisily, wobbling slightly as it rose up, but they stayed in place._

 _Sweat began to run down Harry's face as he slowly manoeuvred the structure around, rising the end and swinging it up towards the top of the cliff while slowly dropping the other end to the ground._

 _His wand pulsed in his hand, growing warm at the amount of magic flowing through it. His blood pulsed too, in some sort of sympathy with the spell. As the staircase moved closer, the pulsing became more violent. His wand actually started jerking from side to side, threatening to rip the puzzle apart with each movement._

 _Harry grabbed on to the wand with his other hand too, steadying it as he mentally dug in his heels. This was going to work; he was going to make it work. No pissant little problem like levitating several tons was going to get the better of Harry James Potter._

 _The spell holding up the stairs grew visible as more power poured into it. A glowing nimbus surrounded Harry and the half the cliff, lighting it up as if an array of spotlights was suddenly switched on. Small sparks of magic ran through the magical cloud as Harry slowly lowered the whole thing into place._

 _With a very loud thump, he dropped it into place, and immediately collapsed on the ground. The stairs stayed where they were put, solidly resting at an angle against the cliff._

 _"I am spending far too much of this task on my arse," thought Harry, looking at his newly created way forward._

 _The stairs silently beckoned to him, enticing him to rise and climb them to the top where the end of the first portion of the task lay._

 _Mindful of the fact the Geas was still forcing him onward, Harry tiredly rose to his feet and began the long climb up the huge steps, the broom knocking annoyingly against his back as he went practically teasing him with an alternate solution he had chosen not to try._

#

"You are all now under a Geas," explained Barty Crouch, the Ministry official supposedly in charge of the Tournament. "From the moment the Goblet chose you as a champion, you have been placed under a magical compulsion. You must compete, and do your best to win, or you will suffer extreme discomfort, pain, and possibly even more violent symptoms, as Mr. Potter can attest."

Everybody turned to look at Harry, who was slumped in a chair near the back of Dumbledore's office. He was feeling much better, but was still far from well. The rushed Floo trip and the excitement caused by his sudden appearance in the school took their toll on him, but something else was the cause of his debilitated state.

The Geas.

The fact he was now committed to competing in the dangerous Tournament hadn't really sunk in yet. The idea somebody entered him without his knowledge or permission wasn't even shocking – it was just another one of those 'things' that happened to him.

None of the school heads looked pleased.

Dumbledore was sad, because it was a clear sign something nefarious was afoot, and Harry was obviously the target.

Madam Maxine was unhappy because the idea of not just one, but two underage wizards taking part in the competition was unthinkable to her.

Igor Karkaroff was angry because the legend of the famous Harry Potter terrified him for some reason, and he was the sort of person to respond to fear with anger.

Some of the other competitors seemed happier, probably because they didn't believe the two younger wizards would be real competition.

Fred was bouncing on his heels, barely able to contain his excitement.

Cedric was far from happy at having only younger teammates on his side.

Sirius was a mixture of Dumbledore and Fred; worried and excited all at the same time. This was exactly the sort of mayhem the Marauder would once have thrived in.

The only other person in the office was the one-legged, one magical eyed, ex-Auror and current Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Alastor Moody, and he was watching everybody warily, as if expecting any one of them to draw their wand and start throwing hexes around.

"Mr Weasley," said Dumbledore. "Can you please explain how you were able to bypass the age line and put your name into the Goblet of Fire?"

"I didn't," said Fred. "I tricked Flint, a seventh year, into putting a piece of paper with George's name in instead of his. It was a bit of a joke, you see. Obviously George did the same, probably with somebody else, although Flint is stupid enough to try to put his name in more than once, I suppose."

"So the other Mr. Weasley placed your name in the Goblet?"

Fred nodded. "George will likely be a bit put out that my name came out and not his, but I am the older one, by two minutes."

"And you, Potter?" asked Moody, redirecting everybody's attention back to Harry.

"I had nothing to do with it," said Harry. "I don't even know where somebody got my signature to do it with. Hell, I'm not even at Hogwarts this year."

"Technically, you have never been withdrawn or expelled," said Dumbledore, drowning out the outrage caused by Harry's pronouncement. "Do you recognise this?"

Harry took the burnt paper from the Headmaster's hand and looked at it closely. To recognise one specific signature amongst all of the times he had written his name should have been a futile exercise, but it wasn't.

"Yes," said Harry, earning exclamations of surprise and disbelief. "It's from my Animagus registration form."

Whispers containing the word Animagus broke out amongst the crowded room.

"How can you possibly recognise it?" scoffed Karkaroff. "Unless you already knew where it came from."

Sirius hissed and rested a hand on his wand, causing Karkaroff to take a step backwards.

"Watch your mouth," the ex-convict said, looking every bit the dangerous criminal half of the world still believed him to be.

Harry felt anger start to burn again at the tone of the Durmstrang Headmaster, but answered as politely as he could without raising his voice.

"Because I only wrote it a week ago, and it is the only thing I can recall signing in my own blood with a Blood Quill," he said, handing the paper back to Dumbledore.

Mr Crouch took the scrap from Dumbledore and looked at it closely.

"I will have an investigation into how this was removed from the Ministry immediately," he said, stuffing the note into his pocket. "But it really isn't irrelevant.

"The nine champions have been chosen, three from each school. How or why a particular person is selected by the Goblet makes no difference. The Tournament will continue as planned.

"The First task will take place in the new Quidditch World Cup Stadium, a few miles from this very castle, on the 24th of November. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard, so we will not be telling what is involved until that time. Once again, congratulations to all of the champions."

"Congratulations, Harry," said Sirius, grinning madly. "You're going to be famous, again."

Harry groaned and put his hands back on his forehead.

 _#_

Fred Weasley grasped his stomach and moaned. In addition to the pain of the poison, the Geas was pulling at his magic, forcing him to want to try to get up and compete.

His insides felt like he had eaten a plate full of gravel, again, but this time his mum couldn't fix him up and slap George for making the stupid dare in the first place.

 _Mind you, some of his mum's cures were worse than the symptoms._

 _Suddenly, through the haze of pain, Fred could clearly see the memory of his mum casting a horrible, horrible charm on him._

 _"This will teach you to steal your father's whiskey," she told_ _the then ten-year-old._

 _The purging spell occupied both ends of Fred's body for the longest fifteen minutes of his life, but he did feel better afterwards, just not right away_ _._

 _"Mum," Fred called weakly._

 _"I'm here, sweetie_ _," said his mum, resting a hand on his shoulder. "I won't leave you."_

 _Ron was ducking in and out, torn between watching Harry compete and staying bedside with Molly and George. Cedric's family also sat with him, trying their best to comfort their only child._

 _"Purge me," Fred gasped out._

 _There was moment of silence before she spoke again. He could she was torn by his request._

 _"Are you sure?" she asked._

 _Fred tried to answer, but another wracking wave of agony raced through him. He did manage to nod several times though. M_ _ore moments passed before she made up her mind._

 _"All right. Ronald, George, close the curtains, then grab some bedpans and towels. Madam Pomfrey, I'm going to need your help, please."_

 _Fred lost track of their voices as the pain filled his thoughts again. He felt his_ _clothes_ _stripped from him and his body moving_ _, but only managed to open his eyes once to see a bucket sitting in front of his face._

 _"Hold on tight everyone," said George. "This is not going to be pretty."_


	3. Sight Unseen

#

"Blimey, Harry," said Ron. "If you wanted to spend time with me that badly, you could have just re-enrolled, you know?"

Hermione laughed and hit Ron with a cushion from the lounge. He immediately retaliated, grabbing her and tickling her ribs mercilessly.

The Gryffindor common room was unsurprisingly noisy, considering there was a party raging in it.

Huge banners celebrating the two "Gryffindor Champions" hung from the rafters. Food and drink flowed freely to all, many of whom, Harry was surprised to see, were not even Gryffindors at all.

Ron and Hermione were doing their best to cheer Harry up, knowing becoming a Triwizard competitor was one of the last things the raven hair boy wanted.

Fred on the other hand, loved it, and so apparently did George.

Ron's twin brothers were amongst the loudest of the part-goers, often switching places and telling outrageous tales of how they had gotten their names into the Goblet of Fire.

"It's true, I tell you," yelled Fred. "I hung from a rope tied to the rafters and George lowered me down to just above the Goblet. He let the rope slip and only managed to stop me when I was two inches from entering the Tournament in a whole new way!"

Raucous laughter followed his announcement, despite almost everybody knowing it was just a tale.

"Are you going to come to classes?" asked Hermione.

"Might as well go to a few," said Harry. "I think I am going to need to learn a lot if I am going to survive this thing."

"We'll help," volunteered Hermione.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Even if we can't use the, thingy, we can still spend a bit of time getting you up to speed."

Harry nodded and took another sip of his Butterbeer. It tasted bitter, but that was probably just his feelings tainting the flavour.

"Any news on that front?" asked Hermione.

Harry shook his head. The healer insisted he avoid using the Time Turner, or any other magic like it, in case it was contributing to his health problems. It meant missing quite a few extra hours of fun with his friends, but he wasn't too worried about it anymore, not when his life was likely in much more immediate danger.

A Geas placed on him by the Goblet of Fire was trouble enough.

"Nah," he said. "But it might be a bit dangerous to use around here. You know, in case anybody finds out about it."

They both knew he meant Dumbledore. Things were still not exactly perfect between Harry, Sirius and the headmaster, and this latest travesty didn't help.

"Pity," said Ron. "Otherwise I could watch the task, and then come back a few hours to tell you how to do it."

"I can just imagine Dumbledore letting that one slide," laughed Harry.

"You don't think he had something to do with it, do you?" asked Hermione. "I mean what's does he stand to gain by forcing you into it?"

"I don't know," said Harry, leaning back into the soft seat. "Somebody put my name in, and somehow managed to get it drawn."

"Maybe it was the Goblins," said a blonde girl, taking the seat next to Hermione. "Daddy says their betting was all messed up by the World Cup result and they have to make an even bigger spectacle of the Tournament in order to make back the money they lost."

"Hello, Luna," said Ron. "How have you been?"

"I am well, aside from a small infection of Nargles, thank you, Ronald," said the girl, not taking her seeming overly large eyes away from Harry. "Hello, I'm Luna Lovegood."

Not knowing what Nargles were, or how serious an infection was, Harry hesitated a moment before shaking hands.

"Hello, I'm Harry," he said, trying not to stare at the girl's boggling eyes.

"I think it's very brave of you to be part of the Ministry conspiracy like this," she said. "I'm sure the Goblins won't try to kill you directly, but daddy says they have far too much riding on the outcome of the tournament to let Hogwarts win."

"Pardon?"

"Luna's dad is the editor of the Quibbler," explained Ron. "He has some rather, _different_ , ideas about the things happening around the place. Last year he printed several issues dedicated to your innocence. Unfortunately he thought you were a House-elf under Dumbledore's control."

"A what? A House-elf?"

Hermione actually giggled, but Luna wasn't fazed at all.

"It's okay, Harry, or Hobby, as I know your real name is," said Luna patting Harry's hand comfortingly. "Dumbledore's charms keep you from realising your true status, but deep down you can't help it. That's why you used to work so hard for those horrible Muggles who owned you."

Hermione stopped giggling and Ron's smile froze at the mention of Harry's treatment by the Dursleys. Harry felt his own confused smile slipping.

"Will we be seeing Ginny at school this year, Ronald?" said Luna, apparently completely oblivious to the sudden awkwardness and tension. "I do hope she doesn't spend another year sitting around doing nothing. I rather miss her."

"Maybe," said Ron, shaking off his apprehension. "She might come to watch the tasks."

"I look forward to it then," said Luna standing up. "Nice to meet you, Hobby."

"Don't worry about her," said Ron, as soon as the girl moved away. "She's always been a bit strange. We used to call her Looney Lovegood."

"Used to?" asked Hermione pointedly.

"Yeah, well, all right, still do, but she's harmless as they come. Just a bit nutty, and her old dad's even worse. They live near us and she'd play with Ginny all the time. Always full of her dad's weird stories, she is."

Harry nodded, not quite sure what to make of the strange girl and her comments.

"It's a bit strange though," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Is, if she is not quite all there, how come the hat put her into Ravenclaw?"

Neither boy could think of a reasonable answer to that one.

#

 _Fred stumbled from the medical tent_ _heading_ _towards the entry to the second task. Cedric followed, leaning heavily on Ron and George's shoulders. They were weaker than newborn kittens, but no longer in pain, and their minds were remarkably clear, compared to just a short while ago._

 _In the tent behind them, Madam Pomfrey was still ranting about dangerous, barbaric home-remedies._

 _His mum was off to tell the rest of the family of Fred's recovery and to take the Diggorys to a good vantage point._

 _"How's our boy doing?" he asked._

 _Ron frowned._

 _"He is making his way up the mountain, but it's hard going," Ron answered._

 _"Did he take the broom?" asked Fred, already expecting the answer._

 _"Yes," answered Ron. "He can't know you need it."_

 _"Doesn't matter," said Cedric. "We'll take the third part, the Mines. Broom won't work in there."_

 _"How do you know that?" asked George._

 _Cedric suddenly looked lost for words._

 _"You set him up," said Ron, stopping suddenly. "You poisoned the bottle, didn't you? I bet you've got an antidote or something somewhere."_

 _"Don't be stupid," snapped Cedric. "I was given a bit of information, that's all."_

 _"Did you know about the dragon too?" asked Fred,_ _recalling how Cedric's plan seemed so well thought out, letting him get the first egg quickly and with apparent ease._

 _"Look, it doesn't matter," said the older boy, lifting himself off Ron and George to stand on his own. "What matters is that we go to the Mine. Our best chance is for both of us to tackle_ _the Mine together_ _, which involves less moving and more problem solving. Unless you think you're up to_ _swimming through the_ _L_ _ake?"_

 _Fred pushed aside his anger and looked to his twin. George shook his head._

 _"He's right," said George. "Harry will be lucky to even_ _make it up the Mountain before the time limit expires, and the lake without the Gillyweed is going to be impossible. The mine is your best bet for any points._ _"_

 _Ron stood up straighter, looking off in the distance towards the Mountain._

 _"Don't count Harry out yet," he said with grim determination. "You should never count Harry out."_

 _Fred found himself hoping Ron was right._

 _#_

The days following the drawing of his name were quite stressful for Harry in entirely new ways. Unable to leave the school due to the Geas, Harry found himself being treated almost worse than in second year before his conviction.

Many people shrank away from him, obviously still harbouring doubts regarding his mental stability after the Heir of Slytherin debacle and the sham trial that sent him to Azkaban. To these people, he was a potential Dark Lord just waiting to lash out and murder them as they passed him in the hall.

To others, he was a curiosity – the boy-who-lived-and-escaped-from-Azkaban. They gawked and stared, and often spoke about him without regard to his presence in the same room.

Yet others had a dimmer view of him and avoided him completely for reasons Harry could not bring himself to care about. Unfortunately, the majority of Hufflepuff and Slytherin house seemed made up of these people.

Even the foreign students fell into one of these categories, with the added benefit of open hostility from a few and distain from the others.

Very few treated Harry as one of them, and almost all of them were from Gryffindor.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," said Ron, as they attended classes. "Last year I learned to care less about what other people thought, and concentrate on those few who mattered."

"I know, Ron," said Harry. "I watched you deal with it, but this is different."

"Why? Because it's about you and not me? Ya big headed prat," laughed Ron, slapping Harry's shoulder playfully. "Just tell them to bugger off if they get under your skin, it might not help your cause at all, but it sure does make you feel a bit better."

Harry nodded and tried to ignore the mixture of stares he kept getting, but one particular person kept catching his eye, and he found it very hard to ignore her.

Cho Chang was a very pretty sixth year Ravenclaw. Her lustrous black hair and oriental features stood her out from the other students, attracting a lot of attention from many of the males in the school.

It seemed to Harry that the girl had just suddenly appeared in the school out of nowhere. Actually, so did a lot of other girls he had not really noticed before, but there was something special about Chang. In fact, if it wasn't for Fleur Delacour and a few of the other visiting students, Harry was certain Cho would easily be the most beautiful girl in the school.

The French beauty definitely had some sort of magical assistance, as her photo, while very attractive, did not do the things to Harry her presence in person did. It was a pity she never looked at him with anything except a sort of wry amusement.

"Harry, you're drifting off again," said Hermione, giving Harry a slight shake.

Harry shook his head and looked around. They were in defence, once again about to undergo another traumatic experience with the new Professor. Sirius told Harry everything he knew about Moody, including the fact the man was more than halfway insane, but he emphasised one thing above all others; pay attention.

Apparently, Moody personally trained many of the toughest Aurors before retiring, and was likely to slip in some sort of hint of what the first task was, despite the magic preventing him from assisting Harry directly with it.

So far, all he did was teach them about the Unforgivables, something Harry would have preferred to miss, since it was highly unlikely any of the tasks involved the Imperius Curse.

It didn't help matters when Harry was the only person in the class able to throw it off, especially when even Moody could not explain why or how.

A stunner suddenly flew from the apparently empty desk at the front of the class and slammed into Seamus Finnegan, knocking him to the ground unconscious.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" screamed Moody, appearing standing on top of his desk, wand waving.

Ignoring the few who screamed and leapt from their seats, Ron, Harry, and Hermione calmly took out their quills and prepared to start taking notes.

One good thing was that it was a much more interesting class than History of Magic.

 _#_

 _Harry staggered towards the table, and reached out his hand to touch the Wood box with the Hogwarts Crest carved on its lid. The box briefly glowed blue before shooting a huge gout of sparks into the air, signalling those below that they could tackle the next two portions of the tasks early._

 _"Pity there is nobody waiting at the water's edge or the doors of the mine to take advantage of the extra time gained by finishing before the limit expired", he thought._

 _"You succeed," said a deep voice, its thick Bulgarian accent making it hard to understand. "I not believe you vould. Vell done."_

 _Harry raised his head to see Krum seated comfortably on a large rock nearby, overlooking the sheer cliff face above the deep lake. He barely looked ruffled; some dirt on his face and clothes the only sign that he partook of the ordeal._

 _No doubt about it, the man was tough._

 _Footsteps on the gravel path to the side of Harry forestalled his reply. Fleur appeared around the corner, looking considerably worse for wear. Various rips and burns marked her robes, and her hair was a mess of twigs and sticks. Dirt smears ran across her porcelain_ _face, somehow not detracting an ounce from its beauty, but she was only breathing heavy, as opposed to Harry's ragged_ _panting._

 _"You made it," she said, looking haughtily at Harry after sending red sparks into the sky by touching her schools crest_ _. "I am surprised."_

 _Harry thought about commenting on the fact he was there before her, but let it ride in favour of more breathing_ _._

 _"Vill you try, Lake?" asked Krum._

 _"I have to," said Harry, nodding and forcing himself to_ _stand up straight._

 _Krum looked mildly impressed. Fleur looked incredulous._

 _"But, you can 'ardly walk!" she said._

 _Harry lofted his broom up and smiled._

 _"That's what this is for," he said._

 _Realisation dawned on the two other champions; Harry completed the Mountain without using up his broom's flight time. Both looked suitably impressed now._

 _"And you?' asked Krum, turning to Fleur._

 _Fleur nodded._

 _"Aimee is working on z_ _e Mine, but I will have to do_ _ze lake. Zen we shall both join 'er to finish if he is out of zat swamp yet._ _"_

 _"How you go_ _down?" asked Krum, pointing to the lake below them._

 _Fleur smiled and took a handful of the slimy Gillyweed from her pocket._

 _"Like zis," she said, jamming the weed into her mouth before running_ _past Krum towards the cliff._

 _Harry didn't have time to cry out before she spread her arms and leaped off the edge. He raced over to stand with Krum, making it there just in time to see the girl complete a perfect swan dive into the lake with barely a splash to mark her entry into the deep water._

 _"Vonderful," said Krum admiringly, and Harry had to agree._

 _"Your turn," said Krum, smiling as he_ _bowed_ _slightly and sweeping his hand out_ _to indicate Harry should follow Fleur._

 _"What about you?" asked Harry. "Aren't you going to help your team mate?"_

 _"I finish my job_ _. Others do theirs. All good," Krum said._

 _Harry understood. Each of the Durmstrang champions was responsible for his own part, and Krum had completed his. The Geas obviously was not forcing him to do any more._

 _"Fair enough," said Harry._

 _"Good luck," said Krum, standing back to allow Harry room to fly passed._

 _"Thanks," said Harry._

 _Then he stepped off the cliff._

 _#_

Harry flew high above the Hogwarts grounds and watched Fleur and the other Beaubaxton champions train. They seemed to be practicing some sort of ritual, with Fleur acting as the caster. She stood in front of a very large, transfigured lion, singing and swaying as if dancing for it.

Aimee and Michael disillusioned themselves as soon as the practice began, and tried to sneak up on the lion, despite the ground being littered with various noise making traps. Once again, one of them trod on something they shouldn't have, Aimee this time, and a small explosion of fireworks erupted from her position.

The lion, startled at the sudden commotion, roared angrily and turned away from Fleur. A Red stunner shot out from Michael's side, knocking the lion out before it could make a move.

Immediately a very loud argument in high-speed French took place between the trio, with Fleur apparently berating the others, who were not taking the abuse lying down. Tempers got the better of them all, as their voices rose even more, and it was obvious their practice for today was at an end.

Shaking his head in a very unbird-like manner, Harry wheeled about and headed back to the castle to report. It was the fourth time he pulled off spying on the French champions, but it didn't gain the Hogwarts team any new information.

Fred managed to observe the Durmstrang team practicing, and reported them taking a very different tactic involving the three champions attempting to overcome another group of students with brute force. The six defending students relied exclusively on a single combined fire spell, constant shields, and stayed standing shoulder to shoulder in a cohesive unit rather than spreading out to make a real battle of it.

It was all very strange and, once again, didn't help the Hogwarts team at all.

"Same as last time," said Harry, after transforming next to Cedric and Fred on the roof of a nearby tower. "Delacour tried to charm a lion this time, while the other two snuck up on it."

"Well, I am buggered if I know what it is," said Fred. "How about you, Ced?"

The seventh year shook his head and Harry again felt tension when Cedric looked at him. For no specific reason, he got the feeling the Hufflepuff seventh year was harbouring a serious dislike of him. Maybe he still bought into the whole 'setting a snake on Justin' thing, or still held reservations about what really happened with Ginny and the Chamber of Secrets.

Whatever it was, it didn't stop the older boy from taking position of leader of the trio; a spot neither Harry nor Fred disputed.

"We are going to have to practice some basic teamwork and get both your defence skills up to scratch," said Cedric. "It seems to me, whatever the task is, there is going to be a battle involved, since both teams are practicing combat or stealth against an opponent."

"We could just sneak over to the stadium and have a look," said Fred. "It's pretty obvious the others know what's going on, and it's not that far away."

The location of the World Cup stadium was a revelation to Harry, although it came as no real surprise that Hermione worked it out after taking one look at the stars on the night of the game.

Secretly building a massive arena only a few kilometres from Hogsmeade was a nifty trick to have pulled off. Having it readily available for the Hogwarts task was inspired. Obviously, Professor Dumbledore had a lot to do with both the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament.

"No," said Cedric, shaking his head. "Watching the other schools train is one thing, but I'll not be a party to outright cheating."

Fred rolled his eyes, and Harry couldn't help but agree. Cedric was being a bit unreasonable about it.

"Besides," Harry said, smiling at Fred. "I know you've already tried."

"He's got you there," Cedric laughed.

Fred joined in, not at all ashamed of getting caught out.

"Both George and me nearly got nabbed," he admitted. "Even Sirius hasn't been able to get close enough to find out what they have planned. Security is rock solid, just like the world cup."

"Didn't stop the Death Eaters," said Harry thoughtfully.

The laughter and smiles fell away quickly.

"Come on," said Cedric, obviously uncomfortable in the suddenly sober mood. "Let's go practice some more. Harry, I'd like to try teaching you how to transfigure rocks into animals, big ones if possible. Fred, you need to practice the disillusionment charm some more. If the French think it's going to be useful, we should all know how to do it."

Nodding in agreement, they started heading towards the classroom set aside for practice. Nobody needed to say what they were all thinking:

How had the other teams found out what the task involved?

#

Remus Lupin examined the Goblet of Fire closely.

The flames were no longer active, making it difficult for him to investigate the weave and interaction of its spells directly, but there was still an amazing amount of magic coursing through the artefact.

It was the second week of his investigation, and so far he had very little to show for his time.

Although a master of enchanting objects, the Goblet of Fire was no Marauder's map, and its construction made that parchment look like a child's toy in comparison.

Where dozens of spells went into the map, hundreds went into the Goblet.

Where four underage wizards poured hours of their magic into the map, teams of wizards poured weeks of magic into making the Goblet.

It was in a class of its own.

However, Remus was not attempting to recreate Goblet, just determine if anything unusual occurred recently to make it select Harry's name. So far, everything appeared correct. There was the smallest hint of a Confundus charm, but it didn't seem powerful enough to have confused the Goblet that badly.

Weasley said he tricked another boy into putting in his brother's name, but he didn't say how he achieved that. There must be more to it than simply switching bits of paper, and others would likely have done the same thing as the twins. Maybe he was detecting the residual of Confundus charms on the papers themselves.

Turning his back on the Goblet, Lupin hurried from the room, intending on retrieving the paper with Fred's name on it.

In the suddenly dark room, a glimmer of movement from the shadows revealed that Lupin was not as alone as he thought. The only indication of the identity of the other occupant was the dull thudding noise of a wooden leg leaving the room, and it went unheard by anybody.

 _#_

 _The surprised look on Krum's face just before Harry fell out of sight made him smile, but it didn't distract from jamming the broom between his legs and accelerating into a graceful curving fall._

 _The lake was huge, running the full length of the valley. The fairytale-like castle of Beaubaxton School sat perched near the top of a mountain part way down the lake's length. A winding path led from the school to a jetty big enough to accompany the massive Durmstrang ship. That was where the other contestants would have started from, if things had gone to plan._

 _Harry could make out hundreds of stands lining the banks of the lake and on many of the artificial clouds floating above him. He couldn't really understand what the spectators hoped to see that they wouldn't view better on the huge, floating crystal balls spread out amongst them, but the stands were packed. Maybe they had very good Omnioculars._

 _Cedric's belief that the location of the next objective would be the deepest part of the lake made a lot of sense. All of the teams were meant to spend time making their way there, overcoming any number of creatures and the currents of the water itself to get to the most obvious place. It was unlikely anybody expected a champion to have a broom for this task, especially not after the way the task description pitched the broom as being required for the Mountain challenge._

 _Fred, that master of rule bypassing, made sure to check thoroughly, but there was nothing to stop them from using the objects gained in the first task for any part of second. Likewise, obtaining a map of the lake was perfectly allowable, as was charming it to work something like the Marauder's Map, although they could not take it with them into the task._

 _Pinpointing the location the wizards would place the objective of the trial was not difficult, once you took into consideration the mentalities involved. Right in the middle of the central square of the main Mere village was such an obvious choice that it was practicably a certainty, especially since it was also the deepest part of the lake._

 _Using the broom was a shortcut._

 _The original plan was to have Harry fly out, swallow a bite of Gillyweed, and then complete the underwater task. He would have ample time to make it back to the shore where he could wait for the Gillyweed to run out, and then join Fred in the Mine._

 _All three agreed beating the mountain without the broom was likely the hardest task, and Cedric was the best equipped to do so. Gaining time for the other two tasks by finishing the first one early also made it the most important. The Hufflepuff was confident enough to feel there was even a decent possibility of him making it back down to help in the Mine too._

 _This division of the tasks made the most sense, utilising each of them in the best way possible, and their near disastrous lack of teamwork in the first task taught them a valuable lesson about working together and using each other's strengths._

 _Fred's devious mind was well suited to the expected curse-breaking challenges of the Mine, but any help he could get from Cedric or Harry would be appreciated._

 _Flying was Harry's greatest strength. It was the best way to overcome Harry's lesser skill, and neatly bypassed most of the need to overcome the creatures and other obstacles in the lake to reach the objective._

 _The incapacitation of his two teammates left Harry with few options, but the plan was still his best bet, except now he could not afford the time of waiting underwater for the Gillyweed to expire, and taking a smaller dose might mean it didn't work at all._

 _The Bubblehead charm was not something Harry could pull off well, but he had to try. Surprisingly, he managed a passable casting on only his second hurried attempt._

 _For a moment, he caught a brief glimpse of Fleur swimming the same direction as he was going. A horde of Grindylows chased along behind her, darting from cover to cover in a vain attempt to remain hidden until they could launch an ambush. Even swimming, she was as graceful as ever, and truly a distracting and wonderful sight for Harry to admire from his lofty vantage point. Then he was past her, and a few seconds later arrived at the spot he estimated and hoped was above the centre of the underwater city and its main square._

 _Cutting the power of the broom, Harry tilted forward and awkwardly tried to control his plummet. Spiralling madly, he gave the broom the briefest surge of power just before hitting the water._

 _The shock of the cold and the collision made Harry cry out, gaining him a mouthful of water that leaked passed his imperfect Bubblehead charm. Spluttering, Harry managed to grab one of Fred's small packets of the strange powder that was the third of the contents gained from the Golden Eggs, and tore it open._

 _Immediately it glowed brightly, chasing away a horde of closing Grindylows and startling a few curious Merepeople. They shielded their eyes against the unexpected glare with webbed hands, some even dropping vicious looking tridents to do so._

 _Silently thanking Fred for his obscure potions ingredients knowledge, Harry waved the packet around him, spreading it about to give maximum illumination, and protection. A carefully cast locating charm directed him downwards, into the dark depths, as he expected._

 _Strapping the broom to his back again, Harry concentrated hard, and then transfigured his unusually wide belt into lead. The weight immediately pulled him down, unfortunately outpacing the slowly sinking circle of light._

 _"Lumos!" cast Harry, the spell echoing eerily inside his bubble of air._

 _Pressure began to build on his chest as he sunk, making it harder to breath with every second. Water leaked into his bubble faster too, putting him in serious danger of drowning if he didn't reach the bottom soon._

 _The light from his wand penetrated the gloom like a spotlight on a foggy night, creating a thin cone of visibility that faded away into the depths, illuminating nothing of value before it too surrendered to the foreboding blackness._

 _#_

"Ron," said Hermione, taking a seat next to her boyfriend. "Did you put your name in the Goblet?"

"'Course I did," said Ron, without looking up from the game of chess he was playing with Neville.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Hermione.

Neville looked a bit embarrassed, but answered anyway.

"No," he said. "I was too scared of getting caught trying. Look at what happened to Dean."

"What, a week's detention? That's just Snape being a git," said Ron. "I bet the only reason the slimy bugger was there at that time of the morning was because he was dropping every Slytherin's name into it that could afford to bribe him."

Neville laughed, but Hermione remained thoughtful.

"What about you," Neville asked Hermione.

"No," she said.

"Couldn't you think of a way then, eh?" asked Ron, the huge grin on his face giving away the fact he wasn't serious.

"Very funny," said Hermione, rolling her eyes upwards. "You know very well I thought of at least seven ways that stood a fair chance of working, since you bugged me about them often enough."

"How did you do it?" asked Neville, abandoning the game he was losing anyway.

"Well, since Hermione wouldn't tell me her ideas, I just went for the easiest way I could figure," said Ron. "I got a large stick and stuck the entry on the end of it, then poked it in over the line."

Neville's mouth gaped open.

"It was that easy?" he asked.

"Yeah, but the tricky part was not getting caught trying," said Ron. "So many people were sneaking in and out at all hours of the day and night, and Moody was hanging around half the time too. It was pretty hard to get a chance to have a go, but even old Mad-eye has to go to the privy every now and then."

"Interesting," said Hermione thoughtfully.

Neither boy was under any illusion she was talking about Ron's ingenuity.

#

The days before the first task started to fly past faster than Harry could keep track of. His waking hours became a blur of classes and practice with Fred and Cedric.

Often others would join him, although the magical Geas of the Goblet of Fire severely limited what help they could give. At any time, if somebody tried to help them directly, like Sirius showing them a specifically useful spell, the trio suddenly felt very uncomfortable. If they persisted, the feeling got worse, gradually growing into pain.

They came up with many ways around this 'no outside help' rule, but it did make it a lot harder to ask for assistance. It was a mystery how the Durmstrang team was able to get around it so easily, although Fred thought it might have had something to do with them already knowing what the task was.

Along with the burdens of having to compete, Harry found himself growing increasingly worried about why his name was put into the Tournament. Sleep was getting harder to come by, despite his exhaustion after spending hours trying to learn everything Cedric and Fred could show him.

Not that Cedric was handing the stress any better. The seventh year had the additional load of his N.E.W.T. exams at the end of the year.

Only Fred seemed to be taking the additional work in his stride.

"Just means I don't get quite as much time to prank people," he said, laughing.

Ron, Hermione, and surprisingly Neville, were all helping Harry with his 'normal' schoolwork. The Geas didn't affect that, even after Professor Flitwick suddenly altered the fourth year Charms curriculum to include several spells that Harry was having difficulty with, despite the fact the charms were not normally taught until seventh year.

Remus and Sirius were more limited in what aid they could provide, much to their frustration.

His godfather was a lot more excited than Harry, and kept slipping hints and suggestions into everyday conversation for what he believed Harry should be studying. Many of the suggestions were good, and Cedric usually accepted them without argument.

Some however, were not so useful, not to Harry anyway.

"A contraceptive charm?" asked Harry, looking up from the book Sirius just happened to leave sitting open near Harry. "How can a contraceptive charm help me?"

"Not with the tasks," said Sirius. "Well, not unless this year includes a few pretty unusual events! No, you are a very desirable lad, don't snort like that – it undignified, and you need to take certain precautions to make sure some wily witch doesn't take advantage to rope you into a life-time commitment."

Harry closed the book and pushed it aside.

"I don't have time for this," he said.

Sirius laughed.

"Gotcha," he said, grinning like a mad man.

Harry couldn't help it, and started laughing too.

"Not that it's a bad charm to know or anything," added Sirius.

"Not for a while yet, I think," said Harry, still laughing at his godfather's trick.

"Anyway, I shortened the odds on you a bit," said Sirius. "I placed a rather large bet today."

"I really don't think we are going to win Sirius," said Harry.

"Win? I didn't say I'd bet on you to win," laughed Sirius teasingly.

"Git," laughed Harry. "Why don't you go see if your chances of hitting on Professor Sinistra are any better?" 

Sirius sighed dramatically.

"Alas, I fear the good Professor will never forgive Padfoot for spending so much time around her last year," he said. "That and I really think she likes the mutt better than me."

"Not surprising," said Harry. "Padfoot didn't fill her room up with roses."

"It was meant to be romantic!" objected Sirius.

"Then you should have picked just the roses, not ripped up the whole plant."

"I was a bit rushed!"

"You were being stupid and you know it. She didn't find it charming the way you expected her to, since you ruined her charts."

"How do you know all this?" asked Sirius, giving Harry a suspicious look.

Harry grinned.

"Spies," he said, trying for mysterious.

#

 _After a seeming eternity of black nothing, oddly shaped buildings rose out of the gloomy floor of lake to meet Harry as he sank. Single story little huts made out of stones and reeds wound together somehow, lay spread out haphazardly beneath him._

 _Stranger still were the little things he recognised as a part of normal houses, like the gardens and flower boxes. It didn't matter how strange and exotic the plants growing in them were, they gave Harry a funny feeling of comfort, since they were so 'normal'._

 _The locating charm pulled Harry's wand away to the right. He twisted until he faced that way, but made no real effort to swim in that direction. The practice sessions he endured taught him some very valuable lessons about moving in water, especially his almost complete lack of ability in the art of swimming._

 _No matter how vigorously he kicked and swung his arms about, the most he ever managed to accomplish was to tire himself out totally for the sake of a few dozen metres._

 _He did manage to change his slow motion plummet's direction slightly though, angling to avoid landing on the roof of one of the Merpeople houses, just in case it couldn't hold his weight. The garden was not so fortunate though._

 _Harry didn't realise just how fast he was falling until his legs buried themselves up to his knees in the muddy flowerbed. The ground absorbed a lot of the impact, luckily, but he still toppled over to land on his behind, crushing more of the weird, dull coloured flowers growing there._

 _It took him a few minutes to dig and pull himself up, completely demolishing the rest of the garden, much to the delight of the Merpeople onlookers who gathered around him, and the horror of the house's owners, who watched from their open doorway._

 _"Maybe they're the Merpeople equivalent of the Dursleys," Harry mumbled to himself, in an attempt to feel slightly less guilty at his vandalism._

 _Finally freeing himself from the soft ground, Harry cast the locating charm again, and headed off along the lakebed in the direction it tugged his wand, in long, loping strides. While not the most efficient way to move through the water, it was still considerably better than swimming, or 'drowning by degrees' as Fred called Harry's lamentable style._

 _On his way, Harry briefly entertained doubts about the validity of the locating spell. Cedric assured him it would always direct him to the centre of the lake, but couldn't explain how it was doing it, which didn't inspire confidence._

 _Typically, Fred shrugged and gave his usual sage advice. "If it doesn't work you're no worse off," he said. "You'll still have no idea."_

 _Mindful of the water splashing around his chin inside of his faulty bubblehead charm, Harry made his best speed along the winding gaps between the houses, following the ever-decreasing twitches of his wand as best he could._

 _He couldn't help himself but let out an excited yell as a large clearing appeared ahead of him with a brightly lit table, twin to the one on the top of the mountain, sitting in its exact centre._

 _Then a giant squid swam into view._

#

Severus finished packing up the disaster of a class after the last horde of moronic students for the day finally left him alone and automatically performed a quick stock take of the student's supply cabinet.

He learned long ago that, every single day, somebody would manage to use up or ruin the cabinet's supply of some 'essential to the next day's lesson' ingredient. It was as if a force akin to the curse of the Defence position lurked in the Potions labs, secretly sabotaging them in an attempt to make it impossible to complete the year's curriculum.

Snape was certain that if he chose to make tomorrow's lesson about boiling water, fifteen minutes into his lecture on the correct procedure to be used, a drought would dry up the Hogwarts lake.

As he suspected, several ingredients were suspiciously low in quantity, which would not be a problem if the majority of students tomorrow had their own, required, standard potions kits. No doubt, some unforseen disaster will mean almost every single kit would suddenly be under supplied, and the cabinet would run dry before the day was out.

That was how things tended to work out for Severus.

Taking note of the needed ingredients, he closed the door and walked to his own private supply cabinet. No disasters had yet penetrated the ward-covered walls of this very special walk-in storehouse, making it the perfect place to keep large quantities of everything, including things that would never be used on any approved Hogwarts potion list.

Previously he used to unlock the cabinet and allow some of the less clumsy or dishonest students to retrieve what was required, but the Granger girl proved he was far too trusting last year, removing one of the precious Basilisk Fangs before he had been able to properly catalogue and store it.

Now only Severus entered the room, making the whole nightly stock-take and refill routine necessary in the first place. Multiple layers of charms, weaved into the very walls and doors themselves, made it impossible for anybody else to force entry into the room without using a significant amount of power and skill, much more than anything a student could generate.

 _Except maybe Granger,_ reflected Severus silently, as he turned the large brass key in the lock. _She could possibly master an unlocking charm complex enough to open the door, despite the spell being above seventh year level, if she was motivated enough._

The massive, complex lock opened with a barely audible click, and the door swung open without a squeak, stopping Severus in his tracks.

Normally the lock groaned in protest, and the door needed to be nudged open. Its rightmost hinge would give out a setting-teeth-on-edge squeal that often made students cringle. While it was frustrating that new high-security doors were not perfect, Severus had purposely left the defects, simply because of the reaction it could cause in the mindless drones snoozing away their time in his class.

The fact it now opened silently was a very disturbing occurrence.

Severus didn't move for a moment, painfully aware something was not right. Somebody had been in the cabinet. They fixed the squeaky hinge, probably in order to avoid being overheard, and managed to open the door without setting off any alarms.

With exaggerated care, Severus drew his wand and slowly finished opening the door. For the next quarter of an hour, he thoroughly cast over a dozen detection spells, and checked for any possible trap or surprise.

While lacking the skill, there were several dozen other people who could possibly be motivated enough to attempt to get into the cabinet, the Weasley twins amongst them. It would not be the first time those idiotic Gryffindors managed to exceed everyone's expectations, and Snape knew he would be high on their list of pranking targets.

There was also the fact both Black and Lupin were often in the castle of late.

The detection spells ended, showing nothing unusual anywhere in or around the cupboard. There was a faint trace of recently cast spells, but nothing lingering.

Slowly and carefully, Severus examined his store room. Everything looked to be in perfect order, but looks could be deceiving. With an annoyed sigh, he resolved himself to the fact he was now going to have to inventory the much larger room to find if anything was missing.

Hours and multiple double checks later, he was certain select ingredients had been taken; ingredients that once before had been stolen from his stores.

There were a few potions that used these particular stores, but chief amongst those was a potion used for any number of nefarious actions.

There was little doubt in Severus's mind that there was an 'innocent' explanation for making

Polyjuice.

#

Harry sat on the parapet of the tallest spire of the castle and watched the sun start to sink below the horizon. Hedwig perched on the wall next to him, keeping him company.

Being back at Hogwarts was nice, especially since he still didn't have to attend classes. No longer having to sneak around the place in his Animagus form like last year was a bonus too.

The cold air stung his nostrils and made him cough a bit, sending shooting pains through his chest. Two weeks after the first task and the injuries still pained him occasionally.

The Geas forced him to stay at the school, despite the next task taking place in France. Harry was almost willing to believe the headmaster was behind the strange magic, but, for the moment, the compulsion to stay at Hogwarts was overwhelming.

"Mizter Potter?" said a soft voice from behind him, with a decidedly French accent.

Cursing at his failure to notice somebody approaching him, Harry turned around, hand automatically dropping to his wand.

Cho Chang stood alone on the tower smiling at him.

Harry felt his heart flutter at the sight of the pretty, sixth year Ravenclaw seeker.

"Cho?" he asked, a bit redundantly. "What are you doing here?"

Cho laughed, a throaty sound that ran shivers up and down Harry's spine. He liked that laugh, and wanted to hear a lot more of it.

"I was out flying and you all alone up here. I thought I'd join you," she said.

Harry noticed a broom in her hand, and the slightly windswept look of her glorious long hair.

"And the accent?" he asked, numb at the unreal nature of their conversation.

Stunning girls just did not suddenly pop up in front of Harry Potter for a pleasant chat. Something was going on.

"Sorry, my idea of a joke I guess. I figured since every other guy in the castle is jumping six feet at the slightest hint of that Veela tart, that it might give you a bit of a jolt," she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. "It didn't though, did it?"

"Tart? I'm guessing you aren't a big fan of Fleur's either then?" said Harry.

"No," said Cho, walking over to lean on the wall next to him. "Although I am surprised the Hogwarts rumour mill seems right about the feelings between you too. Did she really try to seduce you?"

Harry burst out laughing.

"Seduce me?" he giggled. "No. She won't even deign to speak to me."

"Oh," said Cho, moving closer and turning her face to look directly into his eyes. "Although I personally don't think too many words are really needed to seduce somebody."

Harry felt the heat of her body where they were touching. He was terrified, excited, and not a little bit nervous. There was an almost hungry look in her eyes.

Suddenly he realised it was not his imagination. The shy smiles across crowded rooms and between classes, the occasional smattering of small talk, even the way she often seemed to show up in the same places as him, he was right about all of it; Cho was flirting with him.

"Really?" he asked calmly, amazed at his own courage and control.

"Really," she confirmed.

She leaned in, pressing her lips against Harry's in a soft, and yet somehow passionate kiss. Harry found himself returning the kiss. A dozen other fantasies flitting through his mind, along with many tales and advice Sirius shared with him.

Moaning softly, her arms snaked around his neck, and he wrapped his around her waist in response, neither breaking the increasingly energetic kiss. Their bodies pressed together firmly in unconscious expressions of desire.

Forgotten, Hedwig hooted in annoyance and took to air.

Neither teen noticed, but the person hiding in the shadows of the door did.

#

"Harry, is there something going on between you and Cho?" asked Hermione worriedly.

Harry tore his eyes from the Ravenclaw beauty.

"What? No," he said quickly, returning to his breakfast. "Don't be stupid."

Hermione harrumphed.

"Good," she said, rather forcefully.

"Why, you jealous or something," asked Harry, amused at his best friend's display.

"Please!" said Hermione in mock outrage.

Harry laughed and began eating, but all too soon, his eyes returned to the darkhaired girl at the other table. For a brief second, he caught her eye. She smiled quickly, but turned to talk to her friends without any other sign of seeing him.

It was enough.

"You know she is with Cedric, don't you?" asked Hermione.

Harry paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah I do."

Hermione didn't say anything else, but he could feel her disapproving look.

#

"Each champion is permitted to invite three friends as spectators to the task. The two top students from each house for each year, will also be given the opportunity to attend," said Professor McGonagall, causing a rustle of excitement to ripple through the room.

"Lucky you are friends with Harry," Ron loudly stage whispered to Hermione. "Otherwise you wouldn't be able to go."

A few chuckles greeted his comment and even the stern Professor smiled before continuing. Despite missing many months of the previous year, Hermione was still the highest scoring student of her year. Surprisingly, Ron was doing quite well too, although not even close to the top of his classes in any subject.

"Those of you lucky enough to be invited may take only a single trunk, and will be expected to continue with their studies while away from the castle. You will have an opportunity to visit the two other schools and possibly partake in some joint classes, as we will arrive one week before each event and leaving one week after."

"As Deputy Headmistress, it is my duty to stay behind to run the school while the Headmaster is away," said the Professor.

Harry groaned. "Please don't tell me Snape is going to be chaperoning us," he said to Ron.

Ron stopped smiling and anybody who overheard Harry suddenly blanched. 

"However, as two of the champions are Gryffindors, I feel my head of house duties override those of the Headmistress, and I will be accompanying you all."

Half of the common room breathed a sigh of relief, much to the Professor's amusement. She continued her speech, explaining the expectations and rules of those going on the trip, but Harry wasn't paying that much attention anymore.

With Hermione already qualifying to attend on her own merit, and Ron a foregone conclusion, Harry was left with two places to fill.

The only other person that immediately sprung to mind was likely to have an invite anyway, since her boyfriend was also a Hogwarts Champion.

And Harry had no idea who else to invite.

#


End file.
